


Young Love Murder

by alpha_exodus



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And by guilt I mean Parse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Boys being sad about their feelings, Comeplay, Guilt, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Skype Sex, Stripping, Texting, Threesome - M/M/M, only a little bit tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6972073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpha_exodus/pseuds/alpha_exodus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things would be easier if you could choose who to love. Turns out life doesn't work like that. Jack kisses Kent, Kent chats up Bitty over Skype, and Bitty might just be falling for both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo I read the wonderful Ngozi's webcomic approximately a month ago, and since then the characters just wouldn't leave me aloooone. Particularly these three. (And by that I mean I sort of can't believe I've written over 25k about this adorable trash hockey threesome, but I'm posting it, so I guess that's evidence enough, goodness.) Content-wise, there's a bit of sadness and crying but also hopefully enough cute gay love story to balance it out. Canon-typical alcohol use, brief mentions of Jack's OD, and lots of guilt; the first part ends on sort of a cliffhanger, but it's completely finished so I'll be posting the next part tomorrow. Oh, and there's lots of porn (like. lots of porn. holy crap.) but I think we all expected that hahaha. I really hope you adore these dorks just as much as I do (: Much love to my two roommates calypso-mary and yoursummerfrost (<3) for giving this a read over!
> 
> Title from Ke$ha's "The Harold Song".

_they say that true love hurts_  
_well this could almost kill me_  
 _young love murder_  
 _that is what this must be_  
  
-ke$ha, the harold song

Kent hadn’t been expecting Jack to kiss him. One moment, he’d been waving his hands in the air, trying to get it through to Jack that the Aces would be good for him, because he _missed_ him, damnit. And the next moment Jack had stumbled forward and pressed their lips together, warm and rough and flooding Kent with memories of lost summers and desperation.

Because it’s Jack, the kiss stops just as suddenly as it’d started. “Sorry, I—“ Jack’s voice cuts off, and he tries to step back.

Kent doesn’t let him. “C’mere, Zimms,” he mumbles, pulling his Aces cap off of his head and letting it fall to the floor. Jack steps closer again, and then all the boundaries disappear; it’s all mouths and tongues and hearts beating faster than when they’re dancing, competing on the ice. He _finally_ allows himself to reach forward and touch, to feel Jack’s chest beneath his fingers, the lines of his muscles defined and familiar. He goes farther, slides a hand up under Jack’s t-shirt and Jack responds against his lips with a muffled groan.

But then the door opens, and everything shatters.

Kent becomes aware of three things very quickly. One, the person at the door is one of Jack’s teammates—Bittle, he’s pretty sure, and he’s holding a slice of pie. Two, Jack has most definitely stopped kissing him, wrenching himself away in a move that rips Kent’s heart very decidedly in half. And three, Jack is looking at Bittle like he used to look at Kent, back when they were young and sometimes even happy—concerned and like the sun is shining from Bittle’s eyes.

Jack is in love with Bittle, isn’t he? _Fuck._

“Sorry, y’all, I—I was just checking on Jack, I’ll just—go now?” Bittle stammers, sliding the pie plate onto Jack’s desk with a thump-scratch of ceramic and retreating into the hallway.

Kent feels discombobulated, like the whole world’s been turned on its head. Because if Jack is in love with Bittle, he no longer has room for Kent.

And that means Kent shouldn’t be here.

He bends down and scoops up his hat, fitting it back onto his head with fingers that shake only slightly. Jack is staring at the floor, fist pressed to his mouth, and Kent chances a step forward. “Zimms? You okay?”

Three steady breaths, Jack’s shoulders rising and falling each time. Then, “I’m okay.” Kent takes another step, but Jack holds up his hand and looks away, and Kent’s heart falls. “But… you should probably leave,” Jack all but whispers.

Kent had expected as much, but that doesn’t stop the splintering pain in his chest from forming. “’Kay. See you around, Zimms.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jack nods, but his eyes are somewhere else and Kent gets the feeling that he won’t be seeing much of Jack anymore at all. On the ice, maybe, but not smiling next to him afterwards, and definitely not between his sheets. Fuck.

His legs feel numb as he leaves, the door clicking closed behind him, and he resists the urge to crumble right there in the hallway. Even so, he hears the unmistakable sound of a sob that he could swear comes from his own chest, until he hears it again and the rhythm of the breathing’s all wrong. It’s the room across the hall, and—that has to be Bittle, doesn’t it?

He could leave. But Bittle’s heart doesn’t need to be broken tonight, not when it’s so obvious that Jack has feelings for the guy, so Kent shoulders his crushing sense of despair and knocks on Bittle’s door.

He hears a stifled hiccup, then “Sorry, Shitty, I’m done for the night!” But Kent’s not Shitty, and he doubts Bittle would let him in even if he was, so he twists the door open and steps into Bittle’s darkened room.

“P-Parson! Hi!” Bittle squeaks, and the sight of Bittle sitting on his bed with his knees curled to his chest has Kent swallowing away a vague sense of nausea. Bittle shouldn’t be the one feeling like this.

“Hi,” Kent says, and it feels silly but also just right for the tentative thrumming of emotion in the air. He’s getting the chance to have a proper look at Bittle now, and despite the puffiness of Bittle’s eyes, he’s small and blond and cute and _fuck_ , Jack certainly has a type, doesn’t he?

“I thought you were...” Bittle sniffles as he trails off, motioning toward Jack’s room with his head.

“Nah, he kicked me out,” Kent shrugs. It occurs to him that he should probably close the door, so he does, the click of the knob ringing loudly in his ears.

“Oh,” Bittle says. “Are you—I’m sorry, but are you and Jack…?”

“We’re not together,” Kent says bluntly, and fuck, that stings. “Not anymore.”

Surprisingly, Bittle’s lip starts trembling more, and he shakes his head. “I’ve gone and mucked it all up, haven’t I?”

“Don’t start blaming yourself. It wasn’t your fault, okay? We’re—we’re not good for each other anymore, I guess,” Kent says, and then he has to stifle an inappropriate laugh from who knows where because it sounds like a clichéd break-up lead-in more than anything. Maybe the laughter means he’s in denial for now; the thought is comforting because maybe he really can hold off on breaking down until he’s home.

But Bittle just shakes his head and buries his face in his knees, so Kent has no choice except to stay. Just for now, he tells himself.

“You can sit if you want,” Bittle mumbles into his lap. Feeling less discomfort than he would have expected, Kent walks over and pushes aside the blue jacket that’s crumpled beside Bittle, perching on the edge of Bittle’s tiny bed. He guesses he came here to give advice, but it’s also really fucking weird to be advising one’s ex’s future boyfriend about starting a relationship with said ex, so instead he stalls and looks around Bittle’s room. It’s neater than Kent’s own, and he’s getting ready to ask about the figure skating photo on Bittle’s desk when Bittle looks at him.

 “I didn’t even know he wasn’t straight, you know. I wasn’t going to say anything to him. But I must be obvious, since you already know how I feel, don’t you? Seems like we’re in the same boat.” Bittle’s tone is heavy but he’s stopped crying, and Kent swallows contemplatively.

“Look... I doubt Jack knows. He’s a little too oblivious for that, yeah?” Kent resists the urge to give a shaky sigh, wondering if he looks as crushed as he feels. He hopes he doesn’t, for Bittle’s sake. “And—and I wouldn’t say you and I are the same at all. Shit, I don’t think Zimms is ever going to want to be with me again. I remind him too much of before.”

Bittle’s obviously done his Googling (or maybe Jack has _confided_ in him, which almost hurts worse than seeing Jack stare at Bittle does), because Kent’s vague wording doesn’t seem to confuse him. But then Bittle glares at him and Kent’s the one surprised; he’s never seen Bittle glare before. “Did you kiss him, or did he kiss you?” Bittle sits up, dropping his legs so that they dangle over the edge of the bed.

“He kissed me?” Kent questions, not sure why Bittle’s asking, if it’s some weird, curious jealousy or what.

“So don’t take that for granted. Jack doesn’t just going around kissing people, you know,” Bittle says, and his eyes are intense even in the dim light from the streetlamp outside. Kent has just enough time to wonder if that means Jack has kissed Bittle before when Bittle continues, “Not even me.”

And then Bittle’s shoulders are shaking and Kent is reaching forward to hug him before he even knows what he’s doing. Bittle molds against him, shuddering another sob, and he smells like cinnamon and nutmeg and in that moment Kent realizes that Bittle is fucking perfect.

For Jack. Perfect for Jack. Because Bittle is basically a ray of fucking sunshine; Kent could tell that from when they’d been down at the party, from when he’d seen Jack actually _smiling_ at Bittle. Trying to take a selfie, for fuck’s sake.

And Kent wants to be angry, he really does—but he’s not. Because Bittle’s warm and soft in his arms, and God, this can’t be happening. Kent’s falling for Bittle just a little bit, isn’t he? This is how it’d happened with Jack, back in the day, Kent clinging to him and trying his best to keep them both together, and then Kent had realized that he _cared._

The longer he sits there, the more apparent it becomes that it’s happening all over again.

 _Fuck_.

Oh no, this is just too perfect, pining away after two men he can’t have all in one night. What is he doing? Bittle and Jack are probably going start dating _each other_ soon—no, this is awful. This is probably the worst decision Kent’s ever made, and that includes all the nasty things he’s said to Jack but hasn’t truly meant. Not that this was actually a decision—it just _happened_ , Bittle is warm and Kent wants to care about him. Goddamnit.

“Parse?” Bittle whispers, and Kent realizes that his whole body has tensed. Bittle lifts his head off of Kent’s shoulder, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even stop to think about how you were feelin’.”

“It’s fine,” Kent swallows thickly, only now Bittle’s staring at him with a strange expression on his face, and Kent’s thinking about kissing Bittle. But Bittle’s Jack’s—or he might as well be, and Kent’s in love with Jack anyway, and this is just really really fucked up.

He needs to look away, but he can’t; it’s like his vision has locked itself onto Bittle’s lips, his face. Tension stretches between them, sticky like taffy, as Kent stares at the dusting of freckles on Bittle’s reddened cheeks.

“Um… Parse?” Bittle says his name again, and Kent finally jerks his gaze away.

“Yeah?” Kent should pull away now. Except that he doesn’t really want to, because the warmth of Bittle’s body is destroying his resolve.

And then Bittle opens his mouth and Kent’s drowning in his own desires. “You—you can kiss me. Umm. If you want to, I mean… Do you want to?”

Kent’s eyes snap up to meet Bittle’s, because what the fuck? “Fuck, Bittle, no, I can’t,” he mutters, but it sounds feeble even in his own ears. He wants to, God, he wants to.

“Oh,” Bittle says, and he actually looks disheartened.

Scrubbing at his face, Kent opens his mouth again, because he can’t keep it shut even though this is definitely going to fuck him up later. “Not—not that I don’t kinda want to,” he admits slowly.

“A—ah,” Bittle says, and then he flushes in the low light and Kent decides that fuck it all, he’s going for it.

“You’re—are you drunk?” he asks, but he’s already sliding his hand up Bittle’s spine until it rests at the nape of his neck. Bittle shakes his head, thank goodness.

“I was, but it’s wearin’ off, and then seein’ you and Jack together sobered me up a bit and—“

Kent cuts him off by leaning in and kissing him and shit, he’s actually doing this. His heart stutters double-time as his lips touch Bittle’s once and then again, again. It’s nothing like kissing Jack—Bittle’s face is smooth, for one, and his lips are plumper, pillowy against Kent’s own. And Bittle keeps squirming, making the smallest little noises at every press of their mouths together until Kent has to clamp his other hand onto Bittle’s shoulder to hold him still.

“Mmph,” Bittle sighs and melds his body against Kent’s, and Jack’s really going to enjoy this someday, when it’s him sitting here instead of Kent. When Jack is kissing Bittle, and Kent is kissing neither of them, sitting alone on the other side of the country.

Kent had never thought he’d be jealous of Jack kissing someone else.

Bittle pulls away suddenly, eyeing him with a sharp but playful glare. “Would you stop thinkin’ and kiss me properly?” he drawls, and Kent snorts despite himself.

“Someone’s a little sassy,” he chirps, then thoroughly kisses the laugh off of Bittle’s face.

And God, this is fun, tongues swiping into mouths and the thrumming of Bittle’s heart under Kent’s hands as he traces the lean muscle of his chest. He accidentally flicks his thumb against Bittle’s nipple through his thin undershirt and Bittle startles, then laughs into Kent’s mouth, and Kent can’t help but break away with a grin. “You’re really fucking cute, Bittle,” he mumbles, voice throaty with the slightest tinge of lust.

“Call me Bitty,” Bitty says, running his hand up and down Kent’s bicep. “Everyone does.”

Kent leans into him and presses a kiss to his jaw. “You’re really fucking cute, Bits.”

Bitty flushes violently, and Kent leans back to see that it extends all the way down to Bitty’s collarbones. “I like that. The nickname, I mean,” Bitty grins at him from underneath the blush, and Kent knows he’s gone on Bitty, far past the point of no return.

He wonders if Jack calls him ‘Bits’ as he leans in to kiss him again, and then a shock of pain hits him so strongly that he almost flinches. He really needs to get out of here, before his feelings bind him so tightly to Bitty that they snap him in half.

Bitty’s face falls as Kent pulls away (albeit reluctantly) and stands. “Sorry, Bits,” he sighs, even though everything in him is screaming that he wants to stay, to keep kissing Bittle until they both pass out.

Bitty’s lips twist, and he looks almost like he wants to protest, but eventually he sighs. “If it’s what you have to do, I guess.” At Kent’s reluctant nod, he whips out his phone, unlocking it without having to look. “Could I have your number, at least?”

“Sure,” Kent takes the proffered phone and puts his number in, because he doesn’t think it’s possible to make things any worse for himself than they already are. He hands Bitty his phone back, stooping to press a chaste kiss to his cheek (because Bitty is _really_ cute, all right), and turns to leave.

“I’ll text you,” Bitty says, and Kent knows he will.

“Make Jack happy, okay, Bits? No—make him make you happy,” he murmurs, and he knows his voice is wistful but Bittle doesn’t react. Bitty looks a little stunned, almost just like how Kent feels.

“Okay,” Bitty says. And then Kent leaves, weaving through the party that’s still going full blast downstairs, stopping to take a selfie with a random Samwell girl and finally escaping outside. He tugs his coat tightly around him, glad to have snagged it from the stairway banister moments before, and is just about to give himself over to the bleakness of his love life when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He fishes his phone out of his pants, wishing he’d brought gloves as he heads toward the lot where he’d parked his rental car.

 _Unknown sender:_  
_I said I’d text you, sooo… :)_

Kent stifles a laugh as he adds Bitty to his contacts, wondering if Bitty’s really as okay as the text makes him sound.

 _Kent:_  
_that you did. all right there, bits?_

 _Bitty:_  
_Peachy as cobbler! Don’t worry about me! you?_

 _Kent:_  
_better, now._

 _Kent:_  
_:)_

And rather than lying, he finds that he actually means it; the pulsing pain in his chest has dimmed to the point where it’s bearable. The longing and guilt are still there, rippling beneath the surface of his skin, but he texts Bitty all the way until Bitty falls asleep—basic things like “ _why hockey? i saw that figure skating pic_ ” in Kent’s case and “ _What’s your favorite kind of pie? :)_ ” from Bitty (apple, of course).

Hours later, just before bed, Kent gives in to the urge to search for Bitty on Twitter. It turns out that Bitty already has a hell of a following for a regular college kid, and Kent amuses himself for several minutes scrolling through the backlog of tweets.

But it’s the one at the top that he stares at until he drifts asleep—“Sometimes happiness finds you in the most unexpected places… night, y’all.”

He hopes Jack is okay.

xXx

Bitty’s heart is in his throat as he boots up his tablet, drumming his fingers listlessly on his desk as he waits for Skype’s auto-login. “ _Would you wanna skype sometime?_ ” Parse’s text from just a few minutes ago had said, and Bitty had sent an eager “ _I can do now if you can :)_ ” almost without thinking about it. After a month filled with winter break festivities and trying to orient himself in his new classes, he’s going to see Parse’s face again for the first time since they’d met (well, real-time, anyway. Bitty had done his fair share of Googling, even foraying into the famed Jack/Parse fanfiction section, and— _Lord._ )

Parse hasn’t logged in yet by the time Bitty’s set to go, and he spends a couple of frantic moments trying to decide where he should sit. Should he just stay at his desk? That’d probably be okay, but he prefers sitting on the bed if he’s going to be sitting still for more than a few hours. Assuming this will take more than a few hours. Who knows, maybe they won’t even find anything to talk about? And what if sitting in his bed gives Parse the wrong impression? Although they’d sat in his bed before, and it had been okay. (And by okay, he means that it had led to a few blissful moments of the warmest kisses that Bitty’s ever had. So, more than okay, if he’s being honest.)

In the end, he props himself up against his pillows, because the walls in the Haus are pretty thin and he really doesn’t want Jack to overhear him talking to Parse. Not that it’d be a _bad_ thing, per se, but in his opinion neither Jack nor Parse are ready for that confrontation.

All that’s left to do is wait, so he spends his time thinking of that morning, when Jack had insisted for paying for his coffee for probably the third time this week. He still can’t tell whether it counts as going on a date or not, but Parse chirps him about it every time he mentions it and for goodness sakes, Jack needs to get a move on or Bitty’s going to have to do it for him.

But he knows that Jack probably needs to take his time (that is—if Parse is right and Jack actually does have feelings for him. Bitty’s been feeling a lot more cautiously optimistic about that lately though, mainly because Parse tells him it’s true whenever it comes up.)

He loves Jack. He’s in love with Jack. He’d found that out three months ago, had whispered it aloud to himself in bed late one night just so he couldn’t take it back any longer. But he truly, sincerely doubts that Jack knows that he’s in love with him, despite Parse’s chirping.

And then there’s this thing with Parse that’s another issue entirely, these new feelings swelling in his chest whenever his phone buzzes with a “ _good morning”_ or a kindhearted chirp or a “ _hey, i just found your vlog!_ ” That last one had almost given him a heart attack for a good two and a half minutes, until another message from Parse had popped up that read “ _i won’t watch it if you don’t want me to tho_.”

But Bitty had told him to go ahead. Parse already knows he’s in love with Jack; Bitty’d basically told Parse that when they’d sat together in his room. There’s not much more about Bitty for Parse to discover; his mama had always said that his emotions always write themselves right onto his face.

Bitty jumps when the icon next to Parse’s name suddenly goes green, and he answers the incoming call that pops up a moment later with shaky fingers. And there’s Parse, saying something, but Bitty’s heart’s pounding so loudly that he can’t hear it—

Oh, no, that’s just the audio fucking up. Bitty chuckles at himself, mouthing “ _hang on!_ ” to Parse, who leans over to type something as Bitty messes with the settings.

Parse:  
_i can hear you, you know_

Bitty flushes. “Hi,” he says, and then he presses a button and he hears the crackling of static that means the call’s working on his end now.

“Hey,” Parse says, and he’s smirking a little bit and Bitty’s heart thumps faster and _Lord_ , this is dangerous.

Parse must see something on Bitty’s face that he doesn’t like, because his smirk disappears and his eyebrows scrunch together. “Listen, Bits, I should probably put this out there,” he says, and Bitty’s heart drops into his stomach with a ‘thunk’ that he swears he can hear.

“W-what?” he says, trying to ground himself, because deep in his mind he knows that the words he desperately doesn’t want to hear are “ _I can’t do this with you_ ,” except that doesn’t make any sense because Bitty’s in love with _Jack_ and his whole head is so messed up right now and—

“Bits? Don’t freak out,” Parse gives him a strange look, and Bitty tries his best to let his nervousness seep out and away.

“Oh. Right,” he says, and Parse gives him a little smile and that almost makes up for what he thinks he’s about to hear.

“There’s nothing wrong on your end, it’s just. Well. There are some things I’ve needed to set straight for you, okay?”

Bitty nods, and now he’s even more worried because this sounds more serious than he’d first thought.

“Okay, so,” Parse starts, and Bitty can tell he’s stalling. He lets his eyes wander around the screen for a second—and he can tell that Parse is sitting in bed too, so he’s glad his own decision wasn’t weird or anything. “I think you deserve to know some things about Zimms and I, because it seems like you’re close with both of us now, and I really don’t wanna feel like I’m lying to you,” Parse expels the words with a whoosh of air, and Bitty bites his lip.

“Fair,” he says, then, “Go on.”

“I’m not… I haven’t been a great guy around Zimms. I’ve been pretty shitty, actually, and I was worried that you’ve been getting this great impression of me, but I’ve said some pretty awful things,” Parse says, and his eyes are avoiding the camera. He’s taken his hat off and is toying with it, bunching it up in his fists, and Bitty lets out a sigh.

“Oh, Parse,” he says, and Parse’s eyes snap up.

“I’m not joking. I’m not that great of a guy, and—Zimms should be your first priority, okay? He needs someone like you in his life. So don’t worry about me. I saw you looking at me earlier like you—I don’t know, I might be completely wrong and I’m probably fucking this up, but you looked like you were really happy to see me. You know, more than usual. And that can’t happen, all right?”

And he’s saying he doesn’t want Bitty to like him too much, but his eyes are sad and his voice has gone all rough. Bitty’s heart breaks for this boy ( _this boy!_ ), because Parse’s guilt is laid out right in front of him, in the line of his shoulders and the stubborn set of his jaw.

But—seriously, who is Parse to tell Bitty what to think? Because despite what Parse is saying, Bitty doesn’t believe for a moment that Parse is as terrible as he considers himself to be.

“All righty. First of all, Kent Parson, you’re not allowed to tell _me_ who I can or can’t care about, okay? That’s my decision, and I’ve already decided I like you, so you can suck it up,” he crosses his arms. Parse blanches at him, but Bitty doesn’t give him time to speak, moving straight along. “Second of all, I forgive you, because good people can have really bad moments, you know? Just—just don’t keep hurting Jack, please—I mean, I know you don’t mean to, but you obviously don’t _like_ it, so…” Bitty realizes he’s rambling and clamps his mouth shut.

Parse looks surprised, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide. “Of course I don’t like it. It’s…” he trails off, running a hand through his hair, and his stubborn cowlick springs right back up despite his efforts. “It really sucks. Because I lo—I like Zimms a lot,” and Bitty swears that Parse’s voice just cracked. “And I want to see him happy. Like, really happy, not just happy sometimes and miserable when he doesn’t think anyone else is looking. Which is where you come in.”

“You think I could make him happy—why?” Bitty’s voice gets trapped in his throat, lost behind the thoughts spiraling around in his head, because Parse is looking at him like he’s _fond_ of him even through the sadness in his eyes.

“Because you’re something special,” Parse whispers so softly that Bitty almost doubts he’d heard it. But then Parse is leaning back and flashing a shit-eating grin at him and Bitty knows he’s not going to own up to it even if Bitty asks. “You said earlier that Zimms keeps stealing your lattes?”

Bitty crosses his arms and frowns, because he does not approve of this change in conversation. “Hold on a sec, Parse. We are not done talking—“

“ _Bits_ ,” Parse says, and there’s a flash of sorrow in his face that Bitty’s doesn’t quite understand.

But he relents, because he’s sure that Parse isn’t feeling very comfortable at all, not when they’ve just talked about the possibility of _Bitty dating the boy Parse is in love with_ , Jesus. “Fine. But we’re going to talk about this later, just so you know.”

Parse sighs, but he looks lighter, reinforced by the soft smile growing on his face. “All right, _mom_.”

“Kent Parson!” Bitty protests, his eyebrows flying up, and Parse laughs.

“Tell me about Zimms and coffee,” Parse says, leaning over to rest his chin on his hand. He looks sort of content, and Bitty has to admit that it warms his heart.

“So he buys me coffee, but he gets his own black and then steals sips of mine anyway! It’s infuriating, I tell ya,” he shakes his head and Parse honest-to-goodness laughs, and this is okay.

Then Parse’s cat jumps up into his lap and Bitty gives an excited squeal that he hopes isn’t too loud. “Is that who I think it is, now?”

“Kit Purrson, in the flesh,” Parse grins. The view on Bitty’s screen is interrupted as Parse moves his laptop so the cat can curl up comfortably, purring so loudly Bitty can hear it.

They spend a while on a conversation that starts with childhood pets and then branches out into so many other things that Bitty loses track. At some point, Parse stifles a yawn, and Bitty realizes that it’s two in the morning and he has class tomorrow, Lord.

“It’s late for you, isn’t it?” Parse says, still chuckling at the tail end of a terrible hockey pun.

“Yeah,” Bitty admits, scrubbing at his eyes. “I should probably sleep. You know, classes and stuff.”

“I’ll text you,” Parse promises, and again there’s an expression in his eyes that’s too strange for Bitty to analyze.

“I’ll text back,” Bitty says, and it’s when he finds himself smiling coyly that he realizes—holy _shit,_ he’s flirting with _Parse_ and—he means it, doesn’t he? He likes Parse, in a way that’s different with his friendship with Shitty or Lardo or even Jack, and it’s not just because he’s kissed Parse either (although he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t part of it). It’s been really easy to talk to Parse, even when Jack’s not involved, and—Parse had said he was _cute_ , for goodness sake! So it’s absolutely normal to be feeling like this, to be sad that their conversation is over, to want to be near Parse almost as intensely as he wants to hug Jack.

And Parse must know Bitty’s flirting because there’s that _fondness_ in Parse’s smile again, and Bitty gets the distinct impression that if Parse were here he’d be ruffling Bitty’s hair. “Bits,” Parse says, and Bitty’s heart flips at the happiness in his tone.

“I-I should go,” Bitty says, and Parse gives him a lazy wave.

“See ya.”

And Bitty should sleep, but even after he’s put his tablet away, he can’t help but replay their conversation over and over in his mind. Mostly he thinks about Parse’s face, Parse’s laugh, and wonders what in the world he’s gotten himself into.

xXx

“Bittle, your coffee’s ready,” Jack says, and Bitty’s head jerks up from where he’d been staring at his phone.

“Thanks, Jack,” Bitty smiles at him, and there’s that inexplicable fluttering in Jack’s chest, the kind he’s slowly become accustomed to feeling when he’s around Bitty.

They bring their coffees over to the usual corner table. Jack’s eyes follow Bitty as he pauses to unwind the long scarf from around his neck, and Jack would chirp him about his aversion to cold if he hadn’t already done so earlier this morning. Instead he sits still, watching Bitty laugh at something on his phone and snagging Bitty’s latte for a quick sip while he’s not looking.

“I saw that,” Bitty mutters, and Jack grins at him because he likes the taste of the too-sweet-not-quite-coffee-drink, but more than that he likes the way Bitty laughs when Jack takes a stolen sip.

Normally at this point, Bitty would put his phone (mostly) away and chatter about his classes or hockey or a new recipe his mother had sent him. And Bitty does put his phone away today, but he’s mostly silent, and Jack decides not to press even though it’s a change from the norm. Bitty probably has a test that he’s worried about or something.

It’s not until later that night, when he’s in his room watching a video for his history class when he learns that school wasn’t what Bitty was preoccupied with at all.

A knock sounds on his door, even though it’s half open. “Hey, Jack? Can we talk?” Bitty says, peeking around the edge of the door frame.

“Yeah, of course,” Jack pauses his video and swings his desk chair around to face Bitty, wondering if Bitty’s going to ask about their upcoming game. “You can, uh, sit on the bed if you want.”

Bitty hops up on top of Jack’s comforter, looking smaller than normal, and Jack is slightly worried because he’s not always the best at offering emotional support (even though that’s something he needs to improve at, as captain and all).

But again, he’s wrong. “So—I just thought you should know that… um. I’ve been talking to Parse lately?” Bitty’s voice squeaks upwards at the end of his sentence, and Jack’s hands involuntarily go to grip the edges of his chair.

“Oh,” he says.

Bitty flushes. “That’s it, really. I didn’t want you to find out that we’d become friends some other way, cuz I know it’s a lil shocking at first.”

‘ _We’d become friends_.’ Bitty and Kent are… friends.

Jack is surprised, but he lets the thought carefully sink in before he can jump to conclusions—it obviously means a lot to Bitty that he approve of this. It’s after he’s mulled it over for a few moments that it becomes apparent that he’s actually not against it, despite his initial instinct to recoil from any mention of Kent. It’s strange, but—but if it makes Bitty happy, then Jack supposes he’s okay with it.

And the deeper truth, buried beneath his thoughts about hockey and Bitty and grades, is that he wants Kent to be happy too. It’s something he focuses on a lot more often than he should, if he’s being honest with himself, especially now that he’s basically set on accepting the Falconers contract. Not everything has to be a competition anymore (though it’s taken him longer than it rightly should have to realize that).

Flashes of the Epikegster scroll through his head, when everything had gone wrong and he’d felt so, so miserable, but he isn’t letting himself think about that yet. It’s still too raw.

“Okay,” Jack says, because it’s not like he could stop Bitty from talking to Kent anyway.

Bitty’s jaw drops. “You’re… okay with it?”

 “Yeah,” Jack says, and then smiles at him because Bitty looks like he needs the reassurance.

“O-oh, that’s great,” Bitty says, and gives a cautious smile back. “I sort of thought you’d be mad.”

Jack doesn’t blame Bitty; he had almost expected to be mad himself. “No, I’m not. As long as he’s not treating you badly, eh?”

Bitty chuckles. “No, not at all, darl—Jack.”

The warmth in Bitty’s voice makes Jack feel whole. It’s why he likes hanging around Bitty so much—likes _Bitty_ , because sometimes being around Bitty makes him feel like he can do nothing wrong, even when he’s flubbed a shot or feels like he’s breaking under the pressure that endlessly hovers over him.

Bitty’s looking at him strangely—he should probably make an effort to continue their conversation. “So… what do you guys talk about?”

He’s not expecting the bright flush that blooms on Bitty’s face. “H-hockey, mostly,” and though Bitty’s obviously hiding something, hockey is a reasonable enough answer that Jack lets it slide.

xXx

“ _What do you guys talk about?_ ” Jack had asked. Bitty still gets the urge to blush when he thinks about it, because even though he and Parse _do_ talk about hockey and Bitty’s classes and crack jokes, mostly they talk about… well, Jack.

Bitty’s wondered more than once if Parse is using him to fulfill some sort of weird obsession with Jack. But then there are the times where Bitty’s talking and he catches Parse looking at him like Jack looks at him after he’s given Jack a compliment, and obviously that doesn’t _mean_ anything because he’s still not sure Jack likes him anyhow, but… But. There’s that. And besides, Bitty is usually the one to bring up Jack, not Parse, because he loves Shitty and Lardo and Chowder but it feels so nice to be able to chatter about Jack without someone wondering whether there’s something _more_ there (because Parse already knows). So he natters on about Jack freely, and Parse never looks bored, and it’s really nice.

“Bits?” Parse says, and Bitty jumps.

“Oh! Sorry, just got lost in my head, I guess,” Bitty scratches at his ear. “What was I sayin’?”

“You weren’t saying anything,” Parse chirps with a smirk, and Bitty pouts.

“You know what I mean!” he protests, but he’s laughing and so is Parse.

“Hold on, I’m gonna go get a beer. Do you want—uh, oops, that’s silly, what am I saying?” Parse rolls his eyes, and even though he’s still smiling it hits Bitty that Parse wouldn’t mind him being _there_ , that he’s so comfortable talking to Bitty that he could disregard the distance between them on accident like that.

“You’re fine, sweetheart,” Bitty says off-handedly, then realizes that Parse is probably _not_ someone he should be calling ‘sweetheart’ of all things.

Parse just laughs, low and warm. “Thanks, _babe,_ ” he says, and _winks_ , and Bitty is sure he’s literally on fire right now because his whole body is burning.

“I-I’ll get one too, um, yeah. Be right back!” he says very quickly, ducking out of view of his screen to the sound of Parse’s continued laughter.

Once Bitty has crept back into his room and seated himself with his beer, he puts his headphones in and Parse is humming something. Bitty vaguely recognizes it as something classical—Beethoven, maybe? It’s not something he’d expected Parse to like, but Parse just keeps humming even when he sees that Bitty’s seated, so Bitty cracks open his beer and listens.

“Your voice is nice,” he says when Parse finishes, and Parse shrugs.

“I used to take lessons in high school. And anyway, yours is nice too,” Parse takes a long sip of his beer. “I heard you at the party,” he continues, and Bitty gets the distinct sense that Parse is chirping him.

“Shut up,” Bitty grumbles, hiding his smile behind his hand.

“No thanks. You’re cute when you’re dancing,” Parse grins, and dear _Lord_ Parse is flirting up a storm right now.

And Bitty likes it. It makes him nervous, because he’s still not sure where his feelings about Parse fit in with his feelings about Jack, but he really _really_ likes it. “You should have danced with me,” he murmurs, and bites his lip.

“Maybe someday. If you and Zimms don’t—“ Parse stops and shrugs, uncertainty growing in his brow.

“Yeah,” Bitty says softly. _Oh, Parse._

“What’re you thinking, Bits?” Parse mumbles, and Bitty starts to open his mouth but he’s not sure he can put his feelings into the proper words at the moment.

“I dunno if I can put it to words,” he says eventually. “What’re you thinkin’ about?”

Parse averts his eyes with a slight laugh. “It’s sexual. I’m not sure you’d want to hear about it.”

“O-oh,” Bitty says, and he can see the brilliant flush forming on the small picture of himself, mirrored in the corner of his screen. Heart beating faster than the clicking of his kitchen timer, he makes a decision, because Parse is lovely and he—he doesn’t mind talking about sex with Parse, even though he has the sneaking suspicion that this might lead to something more. “Y-you can say it,” he whispers.

“You sure?” Parse raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” At Bitty’s quick nod, Parse tilts his head back and downs the rest of his beer. Bitty can see his throat moving with every swallow, and shit, he’s half-hard before he’s even heard what Parse wants to say.

“I’m thinking about—about you thinking about Zimms while you touch yourself,” Parse mumbles, and his voice is low and raspy and Bitty _wants_. “That is—I don’t know if you think about Zimms while you do that—uh, I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable,” Parse interjects.

Slowly, Bitty shakes his head. “No, it—it doesn’t. Make me uncomfortable, I mean. I do think about Jack when I do—that.” Then he takes a gulp of air, because he needs it—“Do you?”

“Yeah,” Parse says, without a hint of reluctance, and Bitty’s feeling a little faint from all the butterflies in his chest. “Sometimes it’s other people, but usually—he’s the only guy I’ve been with more than once, y’know,” he admits, and Bitty has to close his eyes for a minute because now all he can think of is Parse and Jack, naked together, maybe fucking, _God_.

“Was it—good?” Bitty asks, and part of him thinks that this is really weird, to be talking about Parse and Jack’s sex life, but the other part of him thinks that this is really, really hot.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Parse gives a small, sentimental smile, which morphs into a look of contemplation after a moment. “If you want, I can tell you about it.”

Lord, Bitty’s sure his cheeks are going to be permanently stained red after tonight. “Oh goodness. Um, yes.”

“Yeah?” The corner of Parse’s mouth lifts in the way it always does when he’s chirping Bitty, and Bitty glares at him.

“You heard me, Kent Parson,” he murmurs, and he swears that Parse shivers at the sound of his name coming from Bitty’s mouth.

“Y’know, if you wanted, you could touch yourself right now,” Parse says, and this boy is going to _kill_ him.

“I—I’ll think on it,” Bitty says, and his voice is doing the annoying thing where it squeaks when he’s nervous but he doesn’t really care. Parse can’t actually _see_ his lap, since his tablet is resting on its stand on his stomach, so maybe… maybe he will. “Are you gonna?”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Parse’s mouth twists. “Unless you want me to?”

“Yes,” Bitty blurts out, then covers his mouth with his hand. He’s barely had half of his drink, so the energy racing in his veins isn’t from that; it’s just Parse’s voice and his little smiles that are tearing at Bitty’s self-control like this.

“Okay,” Parse whispers, and the webcam is only pointed at his face and shoulders but Bitty can still hear the distinct noise of a zipper being pulled. “You can close your eyes if you’d rather think about Zimms instead, by the way,” Parse murmurs, looking self-conscious.

Bitty shakes his head. “I like your face too, you know,” he says, and the look Parse gives him is worth the courage it took to say it.

“Oh. That’s—thanks, Bits. I think you’re really fucking cute, but you already knew that,” Parse smirks at him a little, and Bitty feels an odd sense of safety even though his heart is beating through the roof.

“I believe you were going to talk dirty to me, Kent Parson?” Bitty says Parse’s full name just so he can see the flush in Parse’s cheeks that appears in response.

“Oh, is that what we were doing?” Parse murmurs with a grin, but he shifts into a more comfortable position (and Bitty can only see one of his hands, because the other is—oh gosh.) “Okay. Imagine… you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, and Zimms—Jack is leaning down in front of you, kissing you until your head spins.”

“I thought you were going to tell me a memory of you and Jack,” Bitty muses, and Parse chuckles.

“I am. You’re me,” he explains coolly.

Bitty bites his lip, because the thought of it is really sexy—but it’s missing something. “Where are you?”

“I’m—“ Parse says, and he looks startled. “I’m right here.”

And Bitty can hear the unspoken thought behind those words— _I’m not anywhere._ “I’d like it if you were with me, though. With—with me and Jack, um,” he stumbles on his words, because this is definitely the dirtiest thing he’s ever sat down and discussed with someone else.

“Bits,” Parse says, only it’s more of a moan, and Bitty remembers that Parse is probably touching himself right now.

Feeling warm all the way to his toes, Bitty reaches down and pulls at his own sleep shorts until they’re out of the way. He isn’t able to keep himself from gasping a little when he finally wraps a hand around himself, and Parse obviously hears it because he groans too.

“If you really want me there—“ Parse starts, and Bitty nods emphatically so he continues. “Okay, so. I’m behind you, then, reaching around to touch you—not too fast, because Jack and I don’t want you to come yet. I start kissing your neck, and then Jack bends over—hmm, I’d guess he’d have to be on the floor since he’s tall, yeah? So he kneels down and—well, you’d probably stop him so you could put a pillow under his knees, wouldn’t you?”

Bitty gives a surprised giggle, because he definitely would, and Parse smirks a little.

“Anyway, Jack would still be a little too tall for you, so I’d help you get up onto your knees and—do you like being fingered, Bits?”

And Bitty’s head rolls back, because _God_. “Yes,” he chokes out, even though he’s only ever done it to himself. Then he closes his eyes (not because he doesn’t want to look at Parse, but because he wants Parse and Jack to be _here_ , and cutting off his vision makes it feel more real.)

He lets Parse’s voice wash over him, letting his hand find its usual rhythm as he strokes his cock. “Jack kisses you everywhere, your stomach and your hipbones, until you look down at him and tell him to get on with it already. So then he starts sucking you—he sucks cock like a god, Bits, I can’t even describe it to you. It’s overwhelming. And I’m behind you, lubing my fingers, and you spread your legs a little more for me so I can reach. So while Jack keeps sucking you, I hold you still with one hand and use a finger from the other to push up into you really slowly—“

At this point Bitty can’t stop himself from letting out a low whine, and his eyes fly open at the sound of Parse’s chuckle.

“This okay, Bits?”

“Hell yes, I’m—I’m real close,” Bitty admits, and Parse shudders.

“Yeah, me too.” Parse stares at him with a little smile, and Bitty can hear the heaviness of Parse’s breathing, similar to his own. “Want me to keep going?”

“If you want,” Bitty breathes.

“Okay. Jack—Jack is touching himself while he sucks you off, and he lets you put your hands in his hair cuz he likes the feeling of it. He looks up at you every once in a while—he has the prettiest eyes, doesn’t he? You’ve gotten nice and relaxed for me, so I pull my finger out almost all the way and then push in with two fingers instead, and—“

“Pars— _mmph_!” Bitty lets go, biting down on his fist to stifle his groans. Distantly, he’s aware of the sound of Parse’s breathing growing faster, faster, then Parse lets out a long, low groan, and Bitty watches his eyes snap shut.

“ _Lord,_ ” Bitty says breathily, once his voice has come back to him.

Parse grins at him sleepily. “’S’not my name,” he chirps, and Bitty laughs and rolls his eyes.

There’s semen all over his hand now, and _yuck_ , probably on the back of his tablet too. “I’m gonna go clean up real quick,” he motions with his head.

“Same,” Parse nods, and then there’s a quiet moment as Bitty rights himself.

Parse is staring at him when he returns. “Bits… do you want to, y’know. Talk about that?”

Bitty flushes, because he does want to talk about it but his thoughts are feeling very scrambled. “I liked it,” he says first of all.

“So did I,” Parse says, looking relieved, and Bitty sighs at that.

“Parse… You know I think you’re lovely, right?” And it’s not a confession or anything, but it’s the truth.

Parse looks away, and by gosh, Bitty swears he’s embarrassed. “Thanks—I kind of thought—maybe you might… thank you,” he smiles weakly.

“I wanted to make sure you knew,” Bitty says, because Parse seems to think that he’s _not good enough_ , and Bitty wonders if it’s because of the guilt he carries or because Jack kicked him out the night Bitty had met him—probably a little bit of both.

And Bitty thinks he might be slightly in love with him. Which quite frankly scares him, because he _knows_ he loves Jack, and that hasn’t changed one bit, but he’s never been _in_ love with more than one person before and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

And then the realization dawns on him—Parse can never ever know. Because Parse is more fragile than he looks, like hiding deep cuts under a Band-Aid, and if Parse is right and this thing between Bitty and Jack is actually real, then Bitty can’t tell ever tell Parse how he feels because it might very well destroy him.

It hurts. It really really hurts, and more than anything he wants to just love both of them without this all ending up a huge fucking mess.

“Hey, Bits?” Parse says, wetting his lips.

“Yeah?”

“What’s the catch?”

Bitty’s stomach turns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—well. Aren’t you in love with Zimms?” Parse asks, and his face is neutral but his eyes are sad.

“Yeah,” Bitty says, and his voice is raspy so he clears his throat. His chest hurts. “Yes. I am.”

Parse doesn’t look surprised, and Bitty hadn’t expected him to. “Thought so,” he mumbles, and he closes his eyes with a sigh.

“Sorry,” Bitty whispers, the pain in his chest radiating down to his fingertips, and Parse looks back at him and shakes his head.

“Don’t be. I just happen to be really good at fall—“ he stops mid-sentence.

Bitty furrows his brow. “At what?”

“Nothing,” Parse says too quickly, and before Bitty can protest he says “I don’t want to mess this up more than it already is.”

Bitty wants to say that it’s not messed up, but that wouldn’t be the truth, would it? So instead he leans forward so that he’s as close to eye to eye with Parse as he can get. “You’re amazing, okay?” He whispers, and then the part that’s going to hurt worse—“If you need to—to not talk to me, or to talk less—if that’ll help—“

“No, no! I mean, you don’t need to do that,” Parse waves the suggestion away with his hand. “I’m fine, Bits. Really.”

And Bitty doesn’t believe him at all, but for both of their sakes, he pretends he does.

xXx

Jack has always liked routines. They keep everything stable, keep him focused—it’s harder to worry about things when they’re the same every day.

He thinks that if he can make it a routine to get coffee with Bitty every day, then maybe it will be easier to tell Bitty he loves him.

Not that he’d start out with that—he doesn’t want to scare Bitty away. But times like this, where they’re cozy in the coffee shop on a cloudy day, and Bitty’s leaning on the table and laughing—times like this it’s all he can do to keep from reaching forward and taking his hand.

Except when Bitty inevitably pulls his phone out, that is.

“And that’s why I really like learning about World War Two, you know—Bittle, are you tweeting this?” Jack grumbles.

Bitty flushes, and Jack feels a little bad for nagging at him (even though this happens every time). But then he says, “I’m not,” and that’s new.

“Oh,” Jack says, then sips his coffee so he doesn’t have to say anything more—Bitty could have just as easily been reading an email, so Jack really should stop—

“I’m texting Parse,” Bitty murmurs, looking away.

Kent.

Even now, even with over a month between now and the last time Jack had seen him, the name sends a jolt of unidentifiable emotion down his spine. Lately he’s been letting himself think more about Kent instead of pushing those thoughts into the shadowy corners of his mind, bundled safe and hidden away.

He’s had to stay away from his Kent-feelings for a while, because the look on Kent’s face when Jack had made him leave had made Jack feel miserable, because fuck—Kent used to be his best friend. And Jack had kissed him.

He’s been trying so hard to be forward with his feelings lately, and that’s mostly because of Bitty—he wants to someday be able to say what he really wants to without having to worry about it all. But that night he’d been too forward, he’d slipped (because he’d been trying so hard to think about _not_ kissing Kent—it almost felt like cheating on his thoughts of Bitty, which is ridiculous but he couldn’t help it). And Kent had responded, and then Bitty had walked in—

He’s gone over this all a million times in his head. It won’t help to rehash it all again.

But Bitty had mentioned Kent, and since then Jack’s been poking and prodding at his thoughts and fears, trying to figure out what he actually wants and what it all means. He’s still not sure. He’d known Bitty and Kent were talking, but having it happen right in front of him feels different than just knowing about it—now it seems a lot more real. The two of them really are friends—they do things like text during the middle of the day, while Bitty’s out for coffee.

And he’s not _jealous_ , because he could text Bitty if he wanted to. Hell, he could text _Kent_ if he wanted to. Maybe. On second thought, he’s not sure Kent’s too happy with him right now, so maybe not. But Bitty had been smiling at his phone before Jack had interrupted him, and he wishes—

He feels strange voicing it, even in his thoughts, but he wishes he could be a part of that silent conversation, that he could smile at Kent’s words like Bitty had just now.

 “Is he—how is he?” Jack asks slowly, and Bitty gives him a pensive look.

“Will it—would it bother you if I talked about him?”

“No,” Jack says, then shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind hearing about him. I haven’t actually talked to him in a really long time, so it’d be nice—I guess I just want to know if he’s okay.”

And even though he feels a little awkward, there’s a sudden relief at saying those words because it’s like he’s given himself permission to let Kent back into his own life. Maybe someday he’ll get to talk to Kent again and things won’t be so bad, and Bitty will be there and maybe Jack will be holding Bitty’s hand.

Bitty smiles at him, and the world gets just a little warmer. “He’s doing fine. I’m sure you knew, but the Aces won their game last night and he stayed up really late celebrating.”

Jack snorts. “Is he hungover?”

Bitty smirks. “I’ll ask, hang on.” He types something, fingers speeding over the keyboard, and within a minute his phone buzzes. His eyes skim the screen and he bursts out laughing.

“What?”

“He just said ‘ _Tell Jack that yes, I’m hungover, and yes, I am fully aware that ‘heavy drinking impedes my playability’ so he better not start chirping me.’_ ”

“Is he imitating me? I don’t sound like that,” Jack’s brow wrinkles.

“Puh- _lease_ , Mr. ‘Eat more protein, Bittle!’” Bitty retorts with a grin, and Jack shakes his head.

“Well now that you’ve mentioned it—“

“Don’t you _dare_ , Jack,” Bitty threatens, but laughter shines in his eyes.

Bitty’s phone buzzes again, and he looks down at it, chuckling. “He wants to know how you’re doing.”

“He’s not that polite. What did he actually say?”

“Uhh,” Bitty flushes. “I’m not saying.”

“Oh come on, it can’t be _that_ bad.”

Bitty’s lips twist. “He said _‘How is that lovable fucker doing, anyway?’_ ”

“Oh,” Jack says. “Loveable?”

Bitty shrugs. “You know. It’s just Parse being Parse.”

A lump forms in Jack’s throat, because he does know—he’s got so many memories of Kent and his cheeky grin, ruffling Jack’s hair and chirping him mercilessly, and he feels like he could burst with the way they’re assaulting him right now.

He’s allowing Kent to live in his thoughts again, and he feels so much lighter because of it—but he didn’t expect steadfast proof that Kent might still be thinking of him too.

He’s not sure what to do. He needs to think about it more.

“Tell him he needs to drink water,” Jack says eventually, and Bitty laughs.

“I will.”

They sit while Bitty finishes his coffee, lingering longer than usual because now Bitty’s relaying Kent’s messages and Jack’s sort-of replying back. It gives him the strangest sense of nostalgia mixed with happiness, like something has clicked even though he wasn’t even trying to fit the pieces together.

He looks outside as the rain begins to trickle from the sky. Without warning, it starts to pour.

Bitty groans indignantly. “I forgot my umbrella. I swear, the one day it’s above freezing!”

“We can share,” Jack says, and the relieved smile in Bitty’s eyes knocks the breath out of him. They collect their things, huddling close together on the walk home, and Jack wants nothing more than to kiss Bitty.

Not just yet. But maybe soon, he’ll reach over and he’ll hold Bitty’s hand.

xXx

Wednesdays are Kent and Bitty’s usual Skype night, but Kent gets out of practice right beforehand and so normally doesn’t have time to carry a conversation until just before their call. He’s surprised to see several texts from Bitty when he steps out of the shower, but then a teammate yells something about leaving his equipment in the middle of the floor, and then distractions pile on top of each other one by one.

It isn’t until he gets home that he gets a chance to read them.

_Bitty:  
Hey, are we still gonna Skype tonight?_

_Bitty:  
Um, so I may have accidentally agreed to something that I shouldn’t have._

_Bitty:  
It’s not bad! Well, it’s not good either, but I wouldn’t be freaking out if I were you. _

_Bitty:  
Except I sort of am. Oops. Sorry._

Wary, Parse feeds Kit, changes into more comfortable clothes and climbs into bed with his laptop nonetheless.

_Kent:  
what’s up?_

_Bitty:  
It might be easier to explain if you call me, if that’s okay._

_Kent:  
sure thing_

He presses the button to call Bitty, a strange nervousness skittering beneath his skin. Bitty picks up within seconds. He looks normal, and there’s pop music playing in the background just like always, so there’s nothing weird that Kent can see immediately. “Is something wrong?”

“H-hi! Um. Okay, so,” Bitty squeezes his eyes shut. “I told Jack that you and I had been Skyping.”

At the mention of Jack’s name, Kent’s senses are on high alert, but he clamps down on them for now—there’s no use getting upset over something that’s possibly not that bad. “I—all right, that’s understandable. He knew we were texting anyway, right? Don’t sweat it, bro.”

Bitty bites his lip. “Um, there’s more.”

Ah, fuck. Jack’s probably reacted badly, and Bitty will want to stop because Jack has been important in Bitty’s life for much much longer than Kent—Bitty’s in _love_ with Jack, for fuck’s sake. And Jack’s going to be mad at Kent again too, which is exactly the opposite of what he’d wanted from the beginning. Fuck.

Feeling raw inside, Kent starts preparing himself to let go. “It’s… it’s okay, Bits.”

Bitty’s eyes widen. “Are you sure? I mean, it’d be real nice if you two were able to be friends again, so—“

“Wait. What are you talking about?” Kent squints at him, because it’s clear that he’d jumped to an entirely different conclusion.

“Jack wants to—uh, he’s right here. H-he wanted to join us,” Bitty stammers, and his gaze jumps to the side and then Jack’s face is there next to him.

 _Jack_.

“That’s fine,” Kent says, even though he’s so nervous his palms are sweating as Jack sits on the bed next to Bitty. He’s spent the last month chatting up Jack’s crush, of all people, and Bitty is fucking wonderful but sometimes he wonders what it’d be like if he could have Jack again, just for a little while.

And he knows that’s selfish. He can’t help but want it anyway.

He’s resolved that if Bitty wants Jack, he’ll let them be, because Bitty’s somehow wormed his way into Kent’s head, rearranging all of his mental furniture to boot—and even though it’ll probably fucking kill him to see them together, he wants this for them.

But then Jack says “Hi, Kenny,” and Kent thinks he’s going to explode. He wishes he had a beer, but leaving to go get one now would feel too much like defeat, so he stays.

“Hey Zimms,” he does his best to flash a grin. “How’s it going?” Because they hadn’t really _talked_ that last time, but he’s not going to bring that up if he can help it.

The conversation is stilted at first, but then Bitty chimes in and he and Kent chat like normal for a while. And then there’s a shift—Bitty says something that reminds Jack of a tidbit he’d learned in his history class, and then Jack starts telling him about it—telling _Kent_ —because it seems like Bitty’s already heard this story. Jack keeps going, shooting off on a tangent, but Kent doesn’t mind because it’s interesting stuff even though history’s never really been his thing.

Oh, who is he kidding—he doesn’t mind because Jack is talking to him and _smiling_ , and for the first time in a long time Kent feels like he’s finally asking all the right questions. He glances over at Bitty’s face at one point to see Bitty grinning softly, and Kent is _happy_.

Jack runs out of steam shortly after, but that’s okay.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re kind of a dweeb, Zimms,” Kent chirps.

Jack laughs. “I’ve heard that one before,” he says, and Bitty laughs too and they’re all right.

Bitty starts talking about his newest baking project, and Kent wonders if maybe Jack will join them every time. Sure, that probably means he’ll get to watch his ex-lover and his—friend? Friend seems like too small of a word for what Bitty is to him—fall in love and all that shit, but maybe it won’t be so bad.

This probably means he can’t talk about sex with Bitty anymore though. And he’s not gonna lie, that sucks.

Just as that thought crosses his mind, Jack opens his mouth. “Hey, this was really fun, but I should go to bed now,” Jack says, and Kent perks up. He’d forgotten that Jack goes to bed early, but now that he thinks about it, he remembers Jack getting up at the crack of dawn to work out, way back when they’d been friends the first time around.

“We should do this again, yeah?” Kent goes ahead and puts it out there, and Bitty and Jack share a look (fuck, they’re already at the look-sharing stage) and nod at him.

“I’d like that,” Jack smiles.

Kent’s heart thuds in his chest. “Night, Zimms,” he murmurs.

“Night, Kenny, Bitty,” Jack looks down at Bitty for a second, and Bitty’s looking up and Kent swears they’re going to kiss.

They don’t. But they do sit there for enough time that Kent rolls his eyes. “Would you guys hug it out already?”

Bitty turns his head to look at Kent in surprise, but Jack is already leaning forward so Kent can see the exact moment they touch, can hear the little sigh that Bitty probably doesn’t know he’s made. Bitty’s hands don’t know what to do with themselves for a moment, but then they come around to rest on Jack’s back, and—Kent’s been there. He’s hugged both of them like that.

It hurts less than he thought it would, if only because he can see Bitty’s face and Bitty looks ecstatic. And then it’s over, and Jack is pulling away with a smile, and if it had been Kent he’d have kissed Bitty’s forehead or something. But Jack’s not Kent, and Jack and Bitty haven’t kissed yet anyway—he thinks Bitty probably would have told Kent if they had.

Jack bids them both goodnight again, and Kent can hear the click of Bitty’s door. Then it’s just him and Bitty, who’s looking at Kent with a hint of caution in his eyes.

Kent clears his throat. “You’re allowed to be happy, you know.”

Bitty stares at him. Slowly, a grin spreads on his face, and he squeezes his hands into fists and lets out a quiet squealing noise. Kent pretends to cover his ears, even though it wasn’t that loud, and Bitty laughs.

“Sorry,” Bitty whispers. “I am really happy. Thanks, Kenn—Parse.”

Kent arches a brow at him. “You were just about to call me Kenny, weren’t you?”

“Maybe. Shush,” Bitty says, putting a finger to his mouth.

“You can call me that if you want to,” Kent says, and then adds, “But only because you’re so damn cute.”

And what is he doing? He’s never given anyone permission to call him that except Jack.

Then again, he’s never really fallen for anyone else as hard as he’s fallen for Jack either.

“We’ll see,” Bitty says, but happiness radiates from his face and Kent lets out a content sigh. “You know, you always call me cute,” Bitty changes topics.

“Well, yeah? You are.”

“You saw me dancin’ at that party and you still said I was cute. I wanna be more than cute,” Bitty crosses his arms, and Kent’s not sure where this is leading.

“Are you going to dance for me?” he smirks anyway, and Bitty shakes his head, looking determined.

“I’m going to strip for you.”

If Kent had been drinking anything right then, he would’ve choked. As it is, he’s struck momentarily breathless. “Bits—you and Jack—“

“We aren’t dating yet. So until then, I don’t mind… um, unless it bothers you?” Bitty’s face turns solemn in realization.

Kent’s first instinct is to deny it immediately, but he holds his mouth in check while he thinks about it. “Not enough that I’d say no to seeing you,” he murmurs a moment later.

“If it ever gets to be too much, tell me?” Bitty says. “Just in general. I don’t—I really don’t want to hurt you.”

Hurt isn’t really the verb for ‘pulling Kent’s heart out of his chest, breaking it into three separate pieces, and then sewing it back in,’ but it’s close enough. “Kay. I’ll let you know. Stop worrying, Bits,” he chides, and Bitty rolls his eyes.

“Always chirping me, aren’t you?” he says, and then Kent watches him slide out of the bed and his heart flies into his throat. “I’m gonna turn the music up. Umm, I won’t be able to put headphones in if I wanna hear you, so just be a lil quiet?” he hears Bitty say from off-screen.

The music grows louder, then changes mid-song to Beyoncé’s ‘Formation’. Then the view of his camera shifts from Bitty’s headboard until it’s facing Bitty himself, standing by his bed.

Bitty backs up. “Can you see?” he asks.

Kent looks him up and down; he’s slightly blurry at that distance. “You can come a little closer—not that close, hang on—there, yeah, that’s good.” Now he can see Bitty in his too-short red shorts and loose tank top, hand on a cocked hip, smirking.

 “You ready, honey?” Bitty drawls, and Kent suddenly realizes that he’s in for more than he’d bargained for. He nods mutely, and Bitty starts moving, mouthing the words along with the song—and where the fuck did he learn to move his hips like that? Kent’s half-hard in a second.

Bitty swings back and forth, closing his eyes as he gets into the rhythm, and then he opens them and bites his lip. His hands slide down his waist, then he drops low and rolls himself back up— _shit_. “Bits,” Kent groans, and Bitty winks at him.

“You should touch yourself,” Bitty says, his tone slightly commanding (and, not gonna lie, that’s really hot). Kent hastens to obey, leaning down to pull off his shorts as quickly as he can, hard before they hit the floor.

Bitty’s eyes are on Kent’s face as Kent sighs, stroking himself off-screen. “You can keep going now,” he smiles lazily, and Bitty raises his eyebrows.

“I’m just gettin’ started, sweetheart.” Bitty runs his hands down his chest, then crosses his arms so they rest at the hem of his tank. He bunches the hem in his fingers, swaying his hips from side to side, and then in one smooth movement he pulls off the shirt entirely.

Kent stares at Bitty’s chest, his stomach, as Bitty throws his tank off to the side. He’s all lean muscle, freckles smattered over his shoulders, not a hair in sight and just the slightest curve of hipbones visible. Bitty loops a thumb into the band of his shorts, pulling it down slightly and—holy fuck, Bitty’s not wearing underwear, is he? Kent lets out a long, sighing groan at that, hand unconsciously moving faster on his cock.

Bitty winks at him, then turns around, and Kent’s eyes are glued to the screen. Bitty drops down again, rolls back up, and this time his ass is in full view and Kent wants those shorts _off_.

And a few moments later, as if Bitty had heard that thought, he slides the shorts down and away, stepping out of them with a grace that Kent didn’t think was possible. Bitty’s ass is pert and small, and Kent would do anything to get his hands on it right now, to fit himself up against Bitty’s body and sway in time with those hips.

“Want me to turn around?” Bitty asks, stilling.

“Fuck, yes,” Kent mumbles, and then Bitty’s turning and Kent can see all of him.

Bitty’s hard. That fact alone has Kent’s hips making an unconscious thrust off the bed. Bitty’s hard and lovely and he’s wrapping a hand around his cock, stroking slowly. “Like what you see?” he murmurs, and Kent nods.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, and Bitty gives a startled laugh.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say! You’re supposed to call me sexy,” Bitty flushes.

“Oh, that?” Kent raises an eyebrow. “I’ve always thought that, babe.”

“I didn’t know,” Bitty says, then shivers slightly.

“I want to eat you up,” Kent murmurs, and Bitty licks his lips.

“I’d let you.”

“I know.” Kent closes his eyes for just a moment, imagining what it’d be like if he was really there, kissing Bitty, touching him. He’s pining so much that it burns.

“You okay?” Bitty asks, stepping closer to the camera until Kent can only see his chest and shoulders.

“I’m fine,” Kent assures him. “Uh, hey. Can I watch you?”

Bitty shivers. “Okay. Just let me—“ He starts shifting things around off-screen, then the camera angle dips and turns and Bitty’s leaning against the pillows, earbuds in, legs loosely crossed and casually stroking himself like he does this all the time. “Like that, honey?”

“Yeah, just like that,” Kent says, making a conscious effort to breathe. Where Jack is smolderingly hot in the brooding kind of way that makes Kent want to take him apart, to make him relax, Bitty _is_ relaxed, all warm and lazy smiles and Kent wants to take him apart in an entirely different kind of way. “Want me to talk dirty to you?”

“Hmm… not tonight,” Bitty says, and that’s a first. Kent wonders why. “Just—could you maybe take your shirt off?”

Kent gives him the half-smile he uses when he’s flirting because he knows it makes him look sexy. “I guess if it’s for you,” he winks, and Bitty laughs. Kent shrugs out of his shirt, but he must reveal more of his body than he’d meant to when he leans over to toss the shirt in the floor because Bitty stifles a gasp.

“Jesus, Parse, you’re not wearing clothes!”

Kent bursts into laughter. “Why is that surprising? Neither are you,” he chirps.

“I didn’t know! You shush, Kent Parson,” and fuck, Kent wishes he could hear his name in Bitty’s honeyed drawl every day of his life.

“My lips are sealed,” he breathes, and Bitty must hear the wanting in his voice because his gaze turns affectionate, and isn’t that something? Kent’s happy that Bitty cares enough to look at him like that, even if it’s only because the sex is fucking fantastic. He’ll take lust over nothing at all.

“Can I watch, too?” Bitty asks, and Kent hums his assent and pushes his laptop further away so that Bitty can see.

And suddenly it feels more real, to have both of them bare and vulnerable for each other. Kent hasn’t felt guilty over Bitty basically being Jack’s for a while (okay, he knows that’s a lie, but the guilt hasn’t been nearly as bad lately, all right?) and suddenly it’s coming back full force. He has to remind himself that he’s not actually touching Bitty—and that he probably never will—and then the uneasiness finally starts to subside.

“Parse, you’re—“ Bitty drops off, staring, and Kent feels a little bit of triumph at managing to render Bitty speechless.

“Gorgeous? Sexy? Absolutely devastating?” Kent provides, and he expects Bitty to chirp him but Bitty flushes instead.

“All of the above,” Bitty says quietly.

“Oh, Bits,” Kent says, and then he leans back and lets himself bask in the warm haze of lust and happiness and Bitty. They probably don’t have much time left, after all, so he might as well enjoy it.

Almost without thinking, he palms himself, timing his own strokes with Bitty’s. It’s slower than he usually goes, but nice, and if he closes his eyes and listens to Bitty’s little whimpers he can imagine that they’re actually sitting side to side instead of so many miles away.

It’s too much. His heart’s beating too fast, and Bitty’s too perfect, and _fuck_ , he kind of wants to just stay in this moment forever. “Bits, I—“ he starts, and then has to clamp his mouth shut, because what the _fuck_? He’d been about to tell Bitty he loved him. It’d been on the tip of his tongue, because he’d yearned for Bitty so much in that moment—and fuck, that would’ve ruined everything. Not only would Bits have had to turn him down, and probably feel awful about it, Kent would be hurting _Jack_ and he doesn’t think he can bear the thought of losing the friendship that’s only just started to repair itself.

He can’t do this. Bitty can’t know.

And just like that, he makes himself a promise that he’ll never say the words to Bitty, no matter how fucked he ends up. It’s a promise reminiscent of long ago, just like when Jack had disappeared from his life and he’d wanted him back so much he’d cried—it’d been an emotional catastrophe. He’d only been able to recover by telling himself that he was never going to tell Jack about being in love with him at all, and that worked—it made all of the bad thoughts in his head finally shut up.

He’s made good on that first promise so far, and two can’t be much harder than one, right?

“You what?” Bitty says, and it’s only when the flow of time starts moving normally again that Kent realizes it had nearly stopped.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he says, instead of _I love you_ , instead of _I want to be with you maybe kind of forever_ , and Bitty’s hand stutters mid-stroke.

Keeping this promise isn’t so bad.

“You are too, Kenny,” Bitty murmurs, and Kent wants to take this moment and hide it away so he can remember it forever.

He spends a few precious minutes watching Bitty, staring at his flushed, freckled skin and imagining what it’d be like to suck a hickey onto his neck, to suck his cock, even.

“Close, Parse,” Bitty mumbles, and then he leans his head back and shudders a gasp. Kent watches his hand speed, watches the thrust of his hips into the air and the fluttering of his eyelashes as he comes.

When Bitty’s done, a content smile on his lips, Kent closes his eyes and finally lets himself go. He finishes to the thought of Bitty’s release moments prior, and normally he thinks about Jack too but for just this time he doesn’t. Just Bitty, small and sassy and perfect.

Things are back to normal the next time they Skype. Except Jack sits with them until his bedtime again and Kent has to focus on not loving both of them, and now it’s so much harder than before.

xXx

Weeks pass. Bitty and Jack chat with Parse, Jack and Bitty go for coffee, and Jack starts leaving his door open when he doesn’t have work to do, which Bitty takes to mean he can go in if he wants.

Bitty’s standing in Jack’s room on one such night, idly chatting about one of his classes, when Jack leans forward in his chair and takes his hand.

Jack’s palm is callused and large against his own. Bitty’s heart goes into overdrive because what is Jack doing? Does he mean it? Is this just some move he thinks will be comforting as a captain? Bitty’s about to blurt out any one of the above questions when Jack speaks up instead.

“Um. Is this okay?” Jack asks, brow creasing with worry,

“Y-yes! It’s definitely okay,” Bitty assures him, feeling fluttery.

Jack smiles at him, and then there’s no doubt in Bitty’s mind that this is a romantic thing. _Wow_.

Squeezing his hand, Jack pulls Bitty a step closer. “I’m glad. I was thinking about kissing you, but I thought it might be too forward, so I figured this would be better—“

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, if you don’t kiss me right now, I ain’t baking you pie for a month,” Bitty threatens, because _oh God oh God kissing Jack_.

And Jack laughs, leans forward, and kisses him. It’s—Lord, there aren’t words, because Bitty’s wanted this for so long and happiness is flowing through his veins as fierce as a waterfall. Their lips press together all slow and smooth—Bitty’s so elated he’s shaking. Jack pulls away but stays close, and Bitty chases after him, letting his hands thread into the short waves of Jack’s hair and kissing him again, again. He slips his tongue into Jack’s mouth and Jack groans and _goodness_ , he could die happy right now if he wanted to.

When they pull away, Bitty hides his face in Jack’s shoulder, because he’s pretty sure he’s about to start crying and that’s stupidly embarrassing. Jack hugs him close, and his hands are big and warm as they rub over Bitty’s back—it feels so good he’s almost not sure it’s not a dream.

“I take it—that was all right?” Jack asks, and Bitty is definitely _not_ tearing up as he laughs into Jack’s shirt.

“More than all right,” he mumbles. “I like you rather a lot, Jack.”

Jack sits back, looks straight into Bitty’s eyes. “Could you say that again?”

Bitty can feel himself flushing, and goodness, he’s probably a wreck right now. “I like you, Jack Zimmermann.”

And Jack breaks into an uninhibited, dazzling smile. “I—I’m glad, Bittle. I like you too.”

Bitty sniffles, laughing at himself for getting so darn emotional. “I’m really—really happy, Jack. Does this—are we—?”

“I want to be with you, Bitty.” But then Jack’s eyes turn sad. “You should know—it wouldn’t be easy for you, and if you don’t want to deal with that, I’d understand.”

“What do you mean?” Bitty asks, but he thinks he already knows.

“I’m graduating soon, and—“ Jack scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m not out yet. And I’m not sure I want to be, but I don’t want to ask you to hide, because that’s not really fair to you.” He looks wary, as if Bitty would _actually_ say no just because of that.

“Oh, Jack,” Bitty sighs, putting his hand on Jack’s cheek (because he _can_ , he can touch Jack and Jack _likes_ it). “Honey, don’t worry about me. It’s gonna be okay. And if I do get sad, I’m going to let you know, and we’re going to talk about it. Does that sound okay?”

“Okay,” Jack says, and the smile is back, more brilliant than before. He pulls Bitty in his lap and Bitty yelps, scrambling for a handhold, and his hands slip themselves around Jack’s neck and it’s perfect.

They kiss for a very long time.

Bitty wakes up in the morning after the best sleep in his life, curled innocently in Jack’s arms. It’s then that he remembers— _Parse_.

He has to act normal, act happy for Jack—and he _is_ happy, he’s ecstatic beyond belief. But deep in his gut is a swirling guilt, because Parse deserves to know about last night more than anyone.

Should Bitty text him? He doesn’t want to wait until their next Skype conversation, because they’d just talked three nights ago and that would basically be another half week. And Parse would know something was up if Bitty asked to Skype now, and besides, he might want to be alone when he finds out anyway?

So Bitty settles for texting, when he’s downstairs safe in the kitchen because Jack’s gone on his early run. He starts making pancakes and debates over the wording of his text until he realizes he’s being silly and he should just do it already. He pulls out his phone.

_Bitty:  
I thought you should know tah_

He’s shaking, and he accidentally hits the ‘enter’ button when he tries to correct his typo, so he has to try again.

_Bitty:  
*that Jack and I kissed last night._

He hits send, and he should feel relieved now but instead he just feels worse. He’s mid-pancake-flip when he realizes that he shouldn’t leave it at that—what’s Parse going to think?—and he almost drops the pancake in his haste to grab at his phone.

_Bitty:  
Are you gonna be okay?_

Parse doesn’t reply, and Bitty worries so much that he burns a pancake and jumps in surprise when Jack walks in from his run.

Finally, an hour later, his phone buzzes while he’s working on a research assignment and his heart-rate speeds through the roof. He grabs for his phone, drops and subsequently catches it before it can hit the floor, and opens the text.

_Parse:  
i’m ok. happy for you_

Bitty lets out a shaky sigh, glad Jack is in his room working on a paper. He hopes Parse isn’t lying. He doesn’t even care if Parse feels bitter towards he and Jack, because he just wants Parse to be _happy_.

But he realizes as soon as he thinks that thought that he’s lying to himself. He does care if Parse hates him. He really _really_ doesn’t want Parse to hate him, because if he’s being honest, he wants to hug Parse close like he’d hugged Jack all last night.

_Bitty:  
You’re a saint, Parse._

He thunks his head on his desk, desperately hoping to himself that he’s just being a worrywart and that everything is actually okay.

xXx

Nothing is okay. Many miles away, Kent Parson is sitting on his bed with the blinds shut, crying for the first time in the six years since Jack’s overdose.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part two, in which there is a little more sad and a little more happy and a little more sex. <3

_it was a past life_  
_a beautiful time_  
_drunk off of nothing but_  
_each other 'til the sunrise_  
-ke$ha, the harold song

The world is a little brighter now that Jack has Bitty.

They still have to hide it from their teammates since they’d agreed not to tell anyone just yet, but every day since he first held Bitty’s hand, they’ve shared hidden little glances that make Jack feel like he’s on top of the world. And after they’re done with practice or their homework, Bitty comes into Jack’s room and lets Jack kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, until Bitty has stubble burn on his face and is flushing down to his collarbones.

Bitty starts creeping into his room late at night when everyone else has gone to bed. Jack’s a heavy sleeper, but when he wakes up to go on his run, Bitty’s there nestled in his shoulder, still fast asleep. Jack always takes a few moments and just admires him, stares at the freckles that faintly dot his face and the way his hands are half-curled in sleep.

His Bitty. He can get used to this.

On Sunday morning he takes pictures. He’d asked the night before if he could, and Bitty had blushed a lot but said yes anyway. So that morning when he wakes up, he pulls out his camera as quietly as he can and captures Bitty over and over. Bitty wakes up and he snaps pictures of that too, of Bitty’s yawn and sleepy smile and rumpled hair. When he’s done, Bitty gently pushes Jack’s camera aside and kisses him until he can no longer think.

He’s almost surprised that he still feels excited for Wednesday night when it comes around. He has Bitty now; he feels so full of happiness that he doesn’t know what to do with it all. But as it gets closer and closer to the time of their Skype call, all he can think of is Kent.

He thinks Bitty’s told Kent they’re dating, and he’s okay with that. Kent won’t tell anyone. But he’s a little bit worried, because sometimes Bitty looks sad when he looks at his phone but Jack’s too afraid to ask.

And at last when he goes to Bitty’s room that night, they call Kent, and it rings so long that Jack doesn’t even know if Kent will pick up.

But he does.

Kent and Bitty are unnaturally quiet from the start, and Jack thinks it’s definitely because he’s dating Bitty now. He tries not to analyze that thought too much because the thought of making Kent sad again is awful, but he keeps coming back to it during every awkward pause. Kent’s eyes are just a little duller tonight, like how he’d looked after every time they’d lost a game. The silence is painful.

So he fills the void with himself, trying his best to act animated and tell amusing stories even though it doesn’t take long before it tires him out. Disappointment rises in him because he’d wanted so much to talk to Kent all day today, and now it’s nothing like he’d expected because he and Bitty are happy and Kent… isn’t.

He wonders if Bitty can tell, and if that’s why Bitty’s being just as unnaturally quiet as Kent. He almost wishes he could stop caring so much about Kent, because now that he knows for sure that Kent is sad, he can’t ignore it. It stings in the back of his mind just as after every fight they’ve ever had.

But finally, he tells a joke and succeeds in making Kent smirk, and Jack feels like the sun has come out. It seems like a dam is broken after that, and whatever was keeping both Bitty and Kent from talking dissolves, transforming the night into their usual rhythm of anecdotes and chirping and lazy grins.

His happiness comes back, washing over him with such sudden clarity that he has to hold back a shiver. He almost wishes he could talk to them both here forever, because it feels so _nice_ to have Bitty and Kent both smiling, laughing with him like this.

And Bitty is warm and alive at his side, but it’s becoming more and more evident that Jack really misses Kent.

Even worse is that he’s pretty sure he’s still a little bit in love with Kent. He can’t deny it anymore because it’s staring him right in the face, reflected in the eyes of the two people he loves more than anyone else in the world. He doesn’t know what to do except to try and ignore it, to just keep loving Bitty like he has been, but part of him doesn’t want to ignore how he loves Kent and that scares him.

He does really miss Kent though, and that particular feeling is impossible to overlook. Maybe—maybe if they see each other again, if he can see Kent be happy, he’ll stop caring so much and they can be friends. Just friends.

An idea forms rapidly in his head, and he’s excited about it before he can even think it through properly. He’s been trying so hard to say the things he wants to say lately, so his mouth opens easily when he says “Why don’t you come down to visit some time?”

Bitty stiffens beside him, and Kent’s brow creases. Jack’s both surprised and a little let down—shouldn’t they both want to see each other?

“If you don’t want—we don’t have to,” he hastens to add.

Kent shakes his head, and the crease in his eyebrows dissipates uncannily quickly. “Don’t be stupid, of course I’ll come.”

“Oh Jack, that sounds lovely,” Bitty says, and he’s relaxing and smiling a real smile so Jack guesses that whatever had been wrong has passed.

He’s immediately aware that this probably isn’t the greatest decision he’s ever made. Neither he nor Parse has truly apologized to the other, and Jack has his not-very-orthodox feelings in the mix to boot. And if this ends badly then Bitty’s going to be stuck in the middle of it all, because Jack can tell already that if one of them ends up sad, Bitty will be sad.

But likes them both so much. He wants to see them together, laugh with them in the same room, and then they can stay a part of his life for a very long time—possibly forever.

“When is best for you two? A weekend?” Jack asks.

“I’ve got a paper due on Monday and two exams the week after,” Bitty looks to the side as he thinks. “Hmm, maybe the weekend after that?”

“We’ve got a game then. We’ll be busy for most of the weekend,” Jack points out, and Bitty taps himself in the head.

“I should’ve known that. Umm—“

“That should be okay?” Kent says, having pulled his phone out, flicking through it idly. “I can come watch your game, no worries. See how Bitty is on the ice, being tiny and all,” he smirks, and Bitty crosses his arms.

“He’s not bad. Fast. Faster than you, actually,” Jack chuckles, and both Bitty and Kent turn their heads to look at him.

“’Not bad’?” Bitty says at the same time that Kent says “Faster than me? No way!” and Jack laughs, the happiness filling him up even as grumbled chirping assaults him on both sides of the screen.

Then Kent’s booking his flight, complaining about how his ears are going to hurt just like he has before every flight that Jack can remember him being on. Bitty’s laughing, side pressed warmly against Jack’s, and Jack is happy.

xXx

Kent is really fucking nervous. He’s nervous all through the plane flight, and even the pain from his ears taking too damn long to pop fails to distract him. He wishes he could Snapchat his sister because even though he never tells her what’s going on, she always seems to know when he needs a little encouragement.

He’s going to see Jack again for the first time since they’d last kissed. Fuck, he’s going to see _Bitty_ again for the second time _ever_ —and they’d kissed too. He kind of really fucking wants to kiss both of them, but instead he’s probably going to be watching them kissing each other.

He’s forever going to remember Bitty’s text from a few weeks ago, the one that had basically been a break-up without actually being one since they hadn’t truly been together anyway. And had it really only been a few weeks ago? His life has been a little blurry lately. He still talks to Bitty, Skypes him and Jack both, but the tone of Bitty’s texts has changed because Bitty doesn’t flirt with him anymore and that fucking hurts. Obviously Bitty is taken now, but he gets the distinct impression that he and Bitty’s relationship is going to fade away until they’re mere acquaintances, the chemistry between them no more than a distant memory.

He’s not even going to think about Jack right now, about the low pulsing pain in the back of his head that’s only gotten worse in the past couple of weeks.

Now he has to try as much as possible not to watch them share glances, not to read between the lines of Bitty’s texts, since “ _Gotta go study now, ttyl :)”_ could mean Bitty’s actually studying, or it could mean that Bitty’s going to sit down in Jack’s room with a textbook and pretend to study while actually just making out with Jack. And maybe they touch each other, maybe they’ve even fucked—not that Kent has thought about this, not at all. Okay, maybe a little. A lot more than he should.

But now he has to look at both of them, knowing they’ve probably done things that make him feel nauseated with jealousy and longing and more than a little hurt. He has to make _conversation_. And yeah, he likes both of them (way too fucking much, obviously), but third-wheeling the two men he’s currently in love with is understandably pretty low on his bucket list.

This is complete shit and he should’ve never agreed to come.

But they’ve already saved him a seat in the family section; they’ve probably already told the entire hockey team he’s coming. As much as he wants to hop right back on the next flight to Vegas, he has to at least go to the game—he guesses he owes them that much. Maybe he can weasel out of staying the night and catch an early flight back.

He’s daydreaming about all the ways that he can potentially pretend to have become drastically ill when he realizes Bitty and Jack both would absolutely not allow him to fly across the US with a raging fever. (But he can still daydream, okay?)

The plane lands much too fast, and then he’s lugging along his carry-on and clambering into a rental car more quickly than he’d thought possible. He’s startled to find that he’s not in fact speeding during his drive to Samwell and is actually going a good five miles per hour under the speed limit. It’s just time, time is being shitty and moving him way too quickly toward his grandiose and inevitable destruction.

He’s on the edge of his seat for the entire game, and that’s actually just because the game is really good, not out of nerves. Jack and Bitty are both on the starting line, and there’s a clench of jealousy in his chest as he watches them play together. He’s also annoyed to find out that Jack was right and Bitty may well be faster than him. (He resolves never to get on the ice with Bitty, because then he never has to find out).

Bitty does this weird flinching thing when one of the opposing team’s D-men heads toward him for a hip-check, making Kent worry for him. But Bitty skates through it and then gets an assist on Jack’s goal not fifteen seconds later—and that’s the game winner, as it turns out. Samwell wins 3-2 in regulation.

The win fills Kent with triumph for about 1.5 seconds before he remembers where he is and what he has to do, and his nerves start acting up all over again. He signs a couple autographs for the family sitting behind him, wishing for the first time in his life that he had a line of people who wanted his signature just so he could delay walking down to the locker rooms.

As it turns out, luck is on his side, because he gets a text from Bitty before he’s even out of the stands.

_Bitty:  
Hey, I know you’re probably tired from your flight, so why not meet us back at the Haus? There’s pie on the counter and the spare key’s under the mat!!_

This is fantastic, he can just leave the stadium and then take his car and leave campus and just go stay the night in some shitty hotel. (That’s a lie—sometimes he still forgets he has money. He’d go stay in a fabulous hotel and probably drink himself to sleep on top of that.)

Except then his phone buzzes again.           

_Bitty:  
Excited to see you :)_

Aww, come on, really? Kent grits his teeth, because Bitty’s _happy_ he’s here, and now he actually has no choice because if he leaves now, Bitty will be sad.

_Kent:  
gotcha, heading over_

The second he sends it, he realizes how sullen he sounds, so he types up another text because fuck it.

_Kent:  
yeah, i’m excited too_

He walks to the Haus, glad that it hasn’t yet turned warm outside because he can distract himself by watching his breath swirl in the air. The key is in fact under the mat, but he doesn’t even end up needing it because it turns out the door is unlocked, which is pretty fucking unsafe if you ask him. Not that anyone’s asking.

He finds the pie—it’s an apple pie, which Bitty might’ve baked for Jack but more likely baked for Kent himself. The happiness that sparks from that thought helps, just a little, to steel him for what’s coming.

He’s feeling antsy standing in the Haus by himself, so he cuts himself a piece of pie and takes it out onto the back porch (then has to promptly return to the kitchen for another one because Goddamnit, Bitty wasn’t lying when he said his pies were to die for; he’s very nearly tempted to eat the whole thing). He sits outside and keeps his ears perked for any sign that Bitty and Jack are home, scratching a crooked _Kent Parson was here_ into the paint on the railing with his keys.

The front door slams, then slams again a few moments later, and he’s not sure if that’s Bitty and Jack or if it’s any other one of their housemates. So he waits a good half hour, past when someone puts music on and then cranks it way up, past when he hears someone shout “Where’s the beer?!”

But then Bitty texts him “ _Where are you?_ ” and Kent stands, shivering. He hadn’t realized he was cold. He makes his way back into the Haus, keeping his head low as he walks through the hallway that’s already thriving with chatter (and how the hell has the party started already?). He wonders where Bitty would be, then thinks _duh, kitchen_ a second later.

He’d thought he was prepared to walk into the kitchen and see Bitty there, back to Kent, humming along to the music and pouring cake mix into cupcake liners—turns out he isn’t prepared at all. Bitty’s wearing those fucking short shorts, the ones he’d taken off for Kent over Skype, and Kent wonders if he’d thought about that when he’d put them on tonight. Fuck. And this is Jack’s _boyfriend_. Shit shit shit, Kent has to stop thinking about him like that right now or this is going to end up a fucking disaster.

“Kent,” someone murmurs behind him, and he whirls around only to be face-to-face with Jack himself.

“Hey, Zimms,” he says, suppressing a shiver because Jack has a little smile on his face, the same little smile he used to have when they were young. And he’s not sad about this at all, he’s _not_. He can’t be, can’t afford to lose the friendship that’s the only thing he has left.

He watches Jack’s gaze roam over to Bitty, who still hasn’t noticed them. “He’s happy you’re here,” Jack says, and this was the worst fucking idea.

Kent wants to run far, far away, but instead he smirks and says “Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Oh, I dunno, some asshole in a backwards baseball cap is here to steal his pie,” Jack chirps him, grinning.

“Oh shut _up_ ,” Kent retorts, and Jack shoves him lightly and Kent shoves him back and this is actually going sort of okay.

“I didn’t invite you over just so y’all could start fighting, now,” Bitty shoots over his shoulder, having apparently noticed their squabble. He walks to the oven and slides the cupcake tin in, and Kent tries not to notice the flush on his face from the heat.

“It’s a friendly disagreement, Bits,” Kent tries, and Jack elbows him.

“Friendly, my ass,” Jack smirks, and then Kent attempts to get him in a headlock and Bitty’s laughing at both of them, tone honeyed and sweet.

“This is gonna be fun,” Bitty leans against the counter, and Kent finally succeeds in mussing up Jack’s hair and Jack doesn’t even look annoyed.

Any doubts leftover in his mind about how fucked over he is have been obliterated. He’s _completely_ fucked.

“Yo, Bitty! It’s time for your keg-stand!” yells a voice from the living room, and Bitty groans.

“Fine, coming!” Bitty pushes off of the counter. Kent moves aside so Bitty can pass, but Bitty manages to brush up against him anyway. It makes Kent feel warm and icy cold all at the same time. He’s scared to meet either of their eyes.

The party is a rush, even if Kent has to chug two beers before he can manage to make himself relax. Then it’s all fun, challenging Lardo at beer pong and then losing (again), chatting with random Samwell kids and the rest of Bitty and Jack’s team, swaying to the music, eating Bitty’s cupcakes. This is what he’d expected from tonight. He’s almost even prepared himself for the possibility of seeing Bitty and Jack kiss, even though he doesn’t think they will until they’re all alone, since Bitty had mentioned that none of his teammates know yet.

He’s not prepared for Jack to call his name as he extricates himself from a conversation with two very drunk girls. “Kent!”

“Yeah, Zimms?” he stuffs his hands into his pockets, hearing the girls giggle over his shoulder as he heads over to Jack.

Jack leans toward him so he doesn’t have to shout. “You should go dance with Bitty,” he nudges him in the shoulder, and Kent stares at him because what the _fuck_.

A thousand questions run through his head—does Jack know about him and Bitty? How much does Jack know? Why does he seem okay with this? Thankfully, the only word that actually comes out of his mouth is “Why?”

“I don’t really like dancing, and I think that makes Bitty sad,” Jack admits, and Kent feels a crippling sense of relief—Jack doesn’t know yet. “And you’re good at dancing—oh there he is, I’ll flag him down—Bitty!”

Oh fuck no, Kent needs to stop him, but Bitty’s already seen Jack waving and he’s heading over before Kent can say a word.

“Besides,” Jack smiles, just before Bitty is within earshot, “I trust you, Kenny.”

 _Nonononononofuck. Fuck._ Kent is going to hell. There is no way he’s going to survive this, Jack _trusts_ him and Jack doesn’t even _know_ that he’s basically had sex with Bitty. But Jack has to find out soon, because Kent doesn’t think Bitty wants to hide it and neither does Kent, if he’s being honest.

And that honesty is going to mean that Jack will probably never smile at him like this again. _Fuck._

But Bitty’s touching his elbow, motioning toward where people are dancing, so Kent pastes a smile on his face for both of them and follows, wishing he were so drunk he could forget this night completely.

“…did you not want to dance? I’m sorry, I assumed—“

Kent tunes in and realizes Bitty’s been talking to him. “Nah, I’ll dance with you, Bits,” he says, and then he does. He moves with Bitty and puts his whole heart into it, even as the crowd pushes them so close together that they’re brushing against each other with every little movement. The fleeting touches of Bitty’s hands are making his skin burn.

And just for a moment, he dances with Bitty and lets himself forget about everything except the fact that he loves the boy in front of him, that they’re dancing and Bitty’s got a wicked smile on his face and Kent is _so_ gone on him.

He’s just starting to enjoy himself when the song changes, and ‘Formation’ comes on.

His jaw drops open, because _no._ He’s not going to stand here and listen to _this song_ and dance with the guy who’d stripped for him, wearing those same little shorts.

“Did you plan this?” he hisses, and he’s immediately sorry when he sees the hurt in Bitty’s eyes.

“I— _no_ —I would never!” Bitty stammers, and the world is pressing in on Kent, making him _angry_ , but the last thing he wants to do is explode at Bitty.

“I can’t—gonna get some air,” he says, and then he flees, ducking out of the crowd and refusing to look back because he can’t bear to see Bitty’s expression. He almost makes it out of the room, but of _course_ he runs into Jack again because he’s never going to get any fucking peace.

“Are you okay?” Jack asks him, looking concerned, and Kent grits his teeth.

“I’m fine. Just—too many people right now,” he grumbles, because it’s true, because he’s about five seconds from either breaking down or exploding and he can’t do that publicly.

He tries to push past Jack, but Jack snags his elbow, and the touch feels like fire on his skin. “Hey, you can just go up to my room if you want,” Jack fumbles in his pocket before pressing something into his palm. “Here’s the key. It’ll be quiet up there, and I’ll send Bitty up and we can have a few beers—sound okay?”

“Whatever,” Kent mumbles, but he takes the key and goes upstairs even though his instincts are screaming against it. It’s not like he’s a glutton for punishment or anything, but all he can hope for is a nice night where he can talk with Bitty and Jack and pretend they’re his best friends or some shit.

He unlocks Jack’s door, ignoring the couple making out at the end of the hallway and stepping inside. It’s just as neat as it was the last time he came in here. He sits on the bed and hunches over, head in his hands. His hat falls off of his head but he doesn’t care.

Someone comes in the room, closing the door afterwards, and he knows even without looking up that it’s Bitty because his steps are much lighter than Jack’s. Kent hears him hesitate in the middle of the room, then feels the bed dip as Bitty joins him.

He sits up. Bitty’s closer than he should be, but not close enough that it’s weird so Kent guesses he can live with it. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Bitty murmurs. “You okay?”

“I’m dealing,” Kent shrugs.

“I’ll be mad if you’re lying to me,” Bitty raises his eyebrows.

Kent has to look away. “It’s hard,” he sighs.

“To see Jack?” Bitty asks, and God, he has no idea, does he?

“Yeah,” he says anyway, because it _is_ hard to see Jack but it’s also hard to see Bitty. “He’s been all casual and shit with me tonight, and it’s… weird, I guess.” He hadn’t realized how much it was putting him off until the words were already out of his mouth, but he thinks Jack might have even forgiven him.

He’d never even thought to hope for forgiveness.

“He likes you, you know. You weren’t best friends for nothing,” Bitty offers, eyes looking earnest and sad. Kent has to resist the urge to put his arm around him, because touching Bitty _does_ things to his heart and he doesn’t think he can take that right now.

“I just wish—“ Kent starts, but there are too many endings to that fragment and only some of them are appropriate to discuss with someone else’s boyfriend. Jack’s boyfriend. Bitty.

Bitty sighs. “Yeah. I know.”

They sit there for a moment, Kent leaning back on his hands and Bitty’s heels not quite touching the floor. “When are you going to tell him?” Kent has to say finally.

“About—?” Bitty makes a vague motion with his hands, and Kent nods. They both know what they’re talking about. “Soon, I promise, but it’s… really hard,” Bitty’s face grows even more somber.

“I would offer, but I don’t think Zimms would ever speak to me again,” Kent says wryly. “I’m not a nice enough person to give that up, I guess.”

“Oh no, Parse, I’m not asking you to,” Bitty shakes his head. “If anything, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have—“

“Don’t you dare say you fucking regret it,” Kent mumbles, staring at the floor because that _hurts_ , okay?

Bitty jumps. “I—I’m sorry,” he sighs.

“…Do you? Regret it, I mean,” Kent asks, even though he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

Bitty takes a long enough time to answer that Kent looks over at him, and now he’s fucked, because Bitty looks _sad_ , all hunched over with his arms around himself. “I dunno,” Bitty’s voice breaks. “I feel real guilty for hurtin’ you, and Jack’s probably gonna be hurt too. So I’m not sure if I can be entirely happy I made those decisions, you know?”

Kent can’t take watching Bitty tremble anymore, even though Bitty has basically said that this whole thing with Kent wasn’t even _worth_ it, so he reaches over and puts a hand on Bitty’s shoulder. “I’ll leave after tonight. We don’t have to text either, I guess, it—it’ll be better that way.”

He’s not expecting Bitty’s face to crumple. “Kent, I—I don’t—please don’t take that to mean I regret _kissing_ you, or that I want you to go away, okay? Because I don’t. I just wish it wasn’t like this, but I wouldn’t take it back.”

Kent feels happier for all of about two seconds before the door whips open. Jack’s standing there, looking furious, and there’s no way he hadn’t heard what Bitty’s just said. “You kissed?” Jack growls, and it’s not so much a question as an accusation.

Kent snatches his hand away from Bitty’s shoulder like he’s been burned, because _fuck_ , this is it for him. He doesn’t know what to say, because his first instinct is to lie and he knows that won’t work in this instance. Even if he did want to talk, his mouth feels like it’s been glued shut.

Bitty sits up, and for a moment Kent is scared for him because Bitty in his experience is fragile. But then Bitty opens his mouth. “Shut the door and come sit down, honey,” he murmurs, voice warm. “It was a while ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it before, but we can talk about it now.”

And—bless Bitty, because somehow he knows exactly how to handle Jack’s moodiness—Jack actually does as he was told, though he sits down in his desk chair instead of on the bed with them. “Explain,” Jack says, but his anger seems to have mostly been defused.

Bitty opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, so instead Kent manages to unstick his jaw. “It was after the last time you and I saw each other,” he says, because he’d felt Bitty trembling through the mattress and he might as well take the fall for this anyway because it’s better than having to watch Bitty being sad. “We were both upset and it just kind of happened. It was a comfort thing, I guess.” Seeing the relief in Bitty’s eyes at not having to speak makes throwing himself under the bus worth it.

Jack nods, and shit, maybe this will be okay after all.

But then Jack asks, “And that was it?”

Kent’s heart drops through the floor. He wants desperately to lie, but Bitty shudders out an “ _I’m sorry_ ” before Kent can even open his mouth and shit, they have to tell him now. There’s no avoiding it. Goddamnit.

“So there was more,” Jack says, and the anger’s back because he’s glaring at Bitty.

“Look, don’t get too mad at Bits, okay?” Kent interjects. “He didn’t cheat on you.”

Jack glares at Kent, too, but then he seems to think it over and deflates. “Okay. Sorry. I assumed—that’s… better then. But—I still want to know what happened.”

Kent’s pulse is racing, because Jack’s just gotten the particular look on his face that means he might be on the edge of freaking out. “Are you gonna be okay if I tell you?”

Slumping, Jack looks away. “I might need a second,” he admits, and at that Bitty stands and walks over to Jack. Kent looks away.

He hears an “I’m really sorry, Jack. It’s okay. I’m here,” and then a sound that’s probably kissing. There’s a long sigh from one of them. Idly, he wonders how shameful it would be to pull out his phone and look up available return flights, because thinking about leaving is better than thinking about how either one of the two men in the room could destroy him with a well-placed insult.

“Kent,” Jack says, and Kent looks up. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”

“Same here, Zimms,” Kent shrugs, feeling distinctly lonely at the sight of Bitty perched in Jack’s lap.

Jack sighs. “Tell it to me straight. Did you sleep with Bitty?”

Kent can see Bitty go tense. He clenches his fists into the comforter and fuck it, he might as well tell him everything. “We didn’t sleep together in real life, but we—did things. Over Skype.” It’s the best way he can think to put it.

“Fuck,” Jack mutters. “How long?”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? We don’t do it anymore,” Kent protests, because he doesn’t want to give this part of himself away when Jack already owns most of the things in his heart.

“How. Long?”

Kent looks away. “From the first week we Skyped until you two started dating.”

Jack is quiet. The room is quiet, broken only when someone takes a shaky breath, and it could have been any one of them. Kent can hear the unspoken words hanging in the air, the ‘ _I trusted you’_ that he’s sure Jack’s head is swirling with.

He thinks back to earlier, when he thought that he would be able to just sit and talk with Jack and Bitty, when things like having Jack like him and Bitty not feeling guilty as hell were still a possibility. Skyping both of them, laughing all together, seems like a dream.

Feeling heavy, Kent stands, leaning down and grabbing his hat from the floor. He finally looks over at Bitty and Jack—Jack has his head bowed, and Bitty’s face is buried in Jack’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna leave now,” Kent says. “Sorry this got so fucked up. I’ll stay out of your way.” The words rip themselves out of him, and he heads for the door. There will be no Bitty on the other side of the hallway this time, nothing waiting for Kent but a lonely hotel and a miserable flight back.

His hand is on the doorknob when he hears Bitty let out a sob. “Don’t go.”

He turns the handle anyway, and then Bitty is leaping out of Jack’s lap and grabbing at Kent’s wrist. “Kenny, _stay_ ,” Bitty whimpers.

“Give me one fucking reason why I should,” Kent growls, because hearing Bitty say his name like that gives him too much fucking hope.

Bitty’s crying so hard he can’t talk, and he covers his face with the hand that doesn’t have a death grip on Kent’s wrist. It takes him a couple of tries to speak. “I—I… you can’t leave,” he says, and has to stop.

“Why?” Kent prompts.

Bitty squeezes his eyes shut and nearly shouts—“Because I love both of you!”

Kent’s pretty sure his heart stops just then.

The words sit in his ears, then tumble down into his chest, the meaning sinking in slow as syrup.

“You don’t mean that,” he says quickly, because Bitty _can’t_ mean that—Bitty’s been in love with Jack for longer than he’s even known Kent.

He’s ashamed to think that the main reason he’d immediately rejected it is because if it’s true, Jack is never going to want to talk to him again. Jack, who he’s tried so hard to fight for—and now Kent’s gone and fucked it all up.

“Don’t you _dare_ tell me how to feel,” Bitty cries, pulling Kent back all the way to the beginning, to the first time they’d talked over Skype. Kent almost says something nasty, something he’s sure he would have regretted for the rest of his life, but he only has time to think ‘ _if he’s mad at me he’ll let me go away_ ’ before his arms suddenly are full of Bitty.

Bitty leans into him, forcing him to step back against the door at an angle that means he has to take his hand off of the knob. Fuck, he wants to scream. His body burns—with guilt, with want, with misery, with shame at the fact that even though Bitty’s crying, he feels so warm against his chest that Kent can’t help but want to hold him forever.

He shouldn’t encourage Bitty, but he’s not really being a good person right now, so he puts his arms around Bitty anyway because he needs it. Even with Jack sitting across the room, silent.

Ten seconds. Then he’ll leave.

Ten, nine, eight. “I’ve gotta leave, Bits,” he mumbles, and he is _not_ going to cry but he presses his face into Bitty’s hair nonetheless. It smells vaguely fruity and sweet and also just like how Bitty smelled all those months ago. He’s not going to look at Jack. He’s sure the jealousy is eating Jack alive. Seven, six, five, four.

“We can—we can talk it out,” Bitty cries, words punctuated with little gasps of breath that manifest as sharp stings in Kent’s throat.

Three, two, one. Kent starts to disentangle himself, pulling far enough away so he can look Bitty in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, heart pounding so hard he’s sure it’s cracking his ribs.

Jack clears his throat, and Kent’s head whips up to look. “Kent,” Jack says, and then, “How do you feel?”

Kent is already shaking his head, because he’s _leaving_ , damn it. But Jack stands up, stepping toward them until he’s close enough to touch. Kent briefly wonders if Jack’s going to punch him. He hopes not, not with Bitty between them.

Jack’s staring him in the eyes now. “How do you feel?” he repeats.

“Don’t make me say it,” Kent’s embarrassed at the pleading tone in his voice. But the worst thing he could do now is to make Bitty feel worse than he already does, and he thinks that breaking his promise to himself and telling Bitty he’s seriously, madly in love with him would definitely fall under that category.

“ _Kenny_ ,” Jack says, crossing his arms, and there’s that fucking nickname again. Kent’s not stupid enough to hope for anything, but Jack doesn’t look like he’s as angry as Kent would’ve expected and he’s also not panicking, both of which are good things.

But still.

It’s Bitty reaching up and putting a hand on Kent’s face that finally does him in. He can feel his resolve crumple, feel his whole body cave as he slumps against the door. He stares at Bitty until his eyes sting, and then he keeps looking, even though he can feel tears starting to slip down his face. “I love you, okay?” He whispers, and Bitty sobs, and then Bitty’s pulling him closer and he lets himself lean into Bitty, drinking him in as they both cry at the unfairness of it all. This is so _stupid_ , he can’t fucking believe himself but it hurts more than he could ever have imagined.

And suddenly another set of arms is folding around them both, and Kent stiffens in surprise. He raises his head and Jack’s there, smelling just like always and smiling a sad smile. Jack’s face is close enough that Kent’s pulse races somehow faster, and fuck, he’s never going to stop feeling like this around Jack, is he?

“Why the fuck are you smiling?” he mutters, because he and Bitty are both miserable and he doesn’t understand what Jack has to be happy about.

“I love Bitty,” Jack says, and Bitty stiffens between them.

“You did _not_ just say that,” Bitty squirms around until he’s looking at Jack, smiling a watery smile that feels just like salt in Kent’s wound. Jack drops his arms from around them and smiles back, looking uncharacteristically sure of himself.

“I did,” Jack confirms. “I love you, Bitty. And,” he looks back up at Kent, “You love Bitty. Bitty loves both of us. And I—“

 _Fuck fuck fuck_ Jack better not be about to say what Kent thinks he is because this is _ridiculous_ oh God—

“I love you, Kenny,” and his tone is all soft and Kent wants to scream because how the _hell_ did that happen?

Bitty nudges at him. “Your turn,” he whispers, and Kent stares at both of them.

He’s never told Jack that he loves him before. He’d tried a couple of times, back when they were young, back before he’d promised himself that it was something he’d never do—even back then the words always stuck in his throat because ‘love’ seemed too small, too tame for how he felt about Jack.

“I can’t—“ his throat closes, and Bitty’s eyes widen.

“Kent Parson, you better tell him right now, or _so help me_!” Bitty threatens.

“Tell me what?” Jack asks, and Kent can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or if he actually doesn’t know.

He lets his head clunk back against the door behind him. He thought he’d stopped crying, but it turns out his eyes are still stinging, and all at once he’s insanely grateful that Bitty’s still pressed against him because at least he’s not alone.

The words don’t get stuck this time.

“I love you, Zimms.”

He looks up at Jack to see an inexplicable happiness blooming on Jack’s face. Kent doesn’t know why Jack’s smiling because this is all sorts of fucked up, but just for a second he allows himself to bask in Jack’s smile.

It’s the perfect moment that they’d never had.

But then Bitty pulls away, and no, Kent doesn’t want that, not at all. He reaches a hand out, just barely brushing his fingers against the place where Bitty’s arm meets his t-shirt. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry, just here,” Bitty says, stopping a few steps away, and then he tilts his Jack. “You should kiss him.”

Kent stares at him, then at Jack, who’s still smiling. “Is that—okay?”

Bitty reaches both of his hands out, intertwining his fingers with Kent on one side and Jack on the other. “If Jack wants, then yes,” he murmurs.

“I do,” Jack stares straight into his soul, and then Kent is lunging forward and kissing him, the touch of their lips feeling like lightning in his veins. The kiss goes backwards, starting rough and raw and _fuck, Zimms_ , and then slowing down, becoming warm and lazy and perfect. He’s ached for this for the entirety of his waking adult life; it’s everything he’s wanted for so long. Well—almost everything, but Bitty’s fingers are warm in his palm, and that’s enough of an anchor that he can lose himself in Jack’s lips and tongue and the warm press of a hand on his back.

It’s only upon hearing a small sniffle from Bitty that Kent pulls away, thoughts moving all slow and saccharine. “What’s wrong, Bits?”

Bitty shakes his head, laughing at himself. “I-I’m just happy. And, um. Can I please kiss Parse?” he directs his question at Jack, and Jack leans over and presses his lips softly to Bitty’s cheek.

“It wouldn’t be fair if I were the only one kissing him, now would it?” Jack says, and then he lets go of Bitty’s hand and moves to sit back down in his desk chair. “Go for it.”

And Bitty positively _beams_ through his tears, like sunshine through the tail end of a thunderstorm. “Hey, Kenny,” he laughs, and nothing’s really funny, it’s just the euphoria, but Kent laughs too.

“Hey, Bits,” he says, and then Bitty’s back in his arms and they’re kissing and Bitty’s lips are just as soft, warm, perfect as they were the first time Kent had kissed him. Fuck, he had missed this more than he’d wanted to admit—he’d only let himself imagine it late at night, just before falling asleep, because thinking about it in the daylight just made him feel guiltier.

Bitty’s face is wet when Kent reaches up to cup Bitty’s cheek in his palm. “You need to stop crying when we kiss,” Kent chirps, and he doesn’t actually mind the wetness but he really hopes there’s a next time and also that Bitty isn’t nearly as sad when  it happens.

Bitty doesn’t respond with words, but he does tangle his hands in Kent’s hair and kiss him harder. Kent wonders if he can _touch_ Bitty, in more places besides his face, because fuck does he want to. He wishes it would be okay to put his hands under Bitty’s t-shirt, but he’s not a hundred percent sure where all of this is going so he should probably ask Jack first.

Instead he settles for smoothing his hands up and down Bitty’s back, feeling the knobs of his cloth-covered spine against his fingertips and reveling in the fact that he can kiss Bitty without feeling guilty about it. Bitty’s tongue touches his lips, twists against his own, and _God_ that’s good.

“You look nice together,” Jack murmurs from across the room. Kent pulls away to breath, heart-rate out of control from just having kissed both of the men he loves.

And fuck, what are they doing? Insecurities start whirling in his brain, but then Bitty tugs him over to the bed to sit and Kent tamps down on them as best as he can.

“So what—what are we doing?” Kent asks, even though he’s more afraid than he’d like to admit that they’ll rethink this, that they’ll change their minds.

“I was—well. Do you think…” Bitty sighs. “…would it be weird? To date both of you?” he asks, and there’s a hint of worry in his tone that Kent could never, ever say no to.

“I really kind of want to,” Kent says, and Bitty twines their fingers together again.

“Move over,” Jack gets up, and then they’re all squishing together side-by-side on the bed with Bitty in the middle. “I’d like that, I think.”

Kent feels like he’s floating.

“You sure, honey?” Bitty asks Jack. “I don’t want to pressure you—you make me really happy, you know.”

Jack shakes his head. “I like Kent,” he says, and Kent grows very very warm. “And I like you, Bitty. And I guess this is kind of a weird thing to do, but we weren’t going to really go public about dating anyway, so…” he shrugs, trailing off.

“Okay,” Bitty smiles, then kisses Jack long and slow.

“Um, about that,” Kent says, and both Bitty and Jack look over at him. “I’ve been thinking—just lately, of maybe coming out? Cuz then it’d be easier for you two in the future if you ever wanted to,” he shrugs.

Bitty’s eyes widen. “You don’t have to!” he says immediately.

“I want to,” Kent shakes his head, and Jack gives him a look of such relief that Kent seriously considers doing it right this minute. He’s been thinking about doing it for months, and then one night after Bitty and Jack had started dating, he’d woken up in a cold sweat after a dream where Jack had accidentally been outed and it had been terrible. That had cinched it for him. He actually doesn’t care all that much about his public image, and the teammates he cares about already know. And to be honest, he’d thought when he'd made the decision that if he came out, he’d have an easier time getting over Bitty and Jack because then he could hook up and no one would care.

But that’s different now, because Bitty and Jack want him. He still can’t believe they want him. He feels like the world is golden, like everything sparkles.

“If you’re sure,” Jack says.

Kent nods, because he’d been going to do it anyway, and then he leans over Bitty’s lap and he and Jack are kissing. Kent licks his way into Jack’s mouth, sighing—he’d been sure for years that he’d never get to do this again, but here they are, and fuck that’s nice. Then Bitty’s hand slides warm onto his waist and he moans.

“Y’all’re pretty hot,” Bitty says, and Kent breaks away from Jack to laugh and then kisses Bitty too. A soft groan comes from Jack’s direction, and Kent glances over at him; Jack’s pupils are dilated and his face is flushed.

Kent rests his forehead against Bitty’s. “Have you guys done stuff?”

“Stuff?” Jack says, and Bitty’s flush is immediate.

“Sex,” Kent chuckles, and Bitty flicks him in the head.

“We’ve, um. Touched each other,” Bitty says at the same time Jack says “Oh. Handjobs.”

A lingering remnant of jealousy pings in Kent’s chest, but they’ve honestly done less than he’d expected and he’s kind of happy. “Good,” he says, and it comes out almost like a purr. “You haven’t started without me.”

“Well, to be fair, you and Jack basically did everything without _me_ , and you’ve seen me naked so—ahh!” Bitty yelps as Kent nips at his neck.

“You’ve seen him naked?” Jack asks, and his tone is all curiosity.

Kent smirks at him, cheek against Bitty’s shoulder. “He stripped for me.”

Jack’s eyebrows shoot up. “Lucky. I haven’t, yet. He never took his shirt off,” he gives Bitty a look that’s half endearing and half chirping.

Bitty laughs, and Kent can feel it in his own lips as he presses them to Bitty’s throat. “We can fix that,” Bitty says, voice husky, and Kent groans.

“Is this a good time to say that I really, really want to touch you?” He sits up, eyes roving over Bitty’s t-shirt and those fucking red shorts, hyper-aware of Jack’s gaze on both of them.

Bitty nods, short and fast. “I want—Lord I want everything—can we all—?” he asks, the answer draping itself over the tension in the air.

Kent nods at Jack and Jack says “Yes, Bitty,” and Bitty makes a soft little whimper that sends blood pooling in Kent’s groin in an instant.

“Uh, condoms?” Kent asks, and Jack murmurs _shit_.

“I have some,” Bitty flushes, pushing off the bed. “I’ll just go—yeah,” he motions, and then he darts out the door.

For a second it’s awkward, because Kent’s not sure what to do with himself and Jack’s just staring at the door. Then Jack looks at him and says, “Bitty, huh?”

Kent laughs abashedly and sighs, running a hand through his hair. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Jack says softly. “I didn’t either.”

“I didn’t mean to love you, either,” Kent admits.

“How long?” Jack asks, and his stare is suddenly so serious that it’s almost intimidating.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kent shrugs.

“Bitty knew.”

Kent’s mouth feels dry. “It’s been a long time,” he says, and Jack scoots closer and kisses him.

“Mmph—“ Kent groans, surprised, then relaxes into the soft warmth of Jack’s lips, his body. God, _Jack_. He’s so happy he feels like he’s weightless, like he’s just won the Stanley Cup but better.

Jack pulls away but stays close enough to touch. “I’m sorry. For being—back then. Just… sorry.”

“Me, too,” Kent says, and he means it.

“We’re okay, right?” Jack asks, and Kent nods.

“We better be okay. I mean—“ he gestures to the bed, smirking, and Jack laughs. “We’re doing this, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, we are.” Jack puts his hand over Kent’s where it’s laying on the bed, and the touch feels like slow fire even after all these years. “And—more, I guess. Dating?”

Kent gives a short laugh, because _dating_. Dating _Jack and Bitty_ , more specifically. “I’m into it.”

Jack kisses him again, and Kent had forgotten how damn affectionate Jack is when he’s not grumpy. God, he’s missed this.

“You never told me you loved me before,” Jack mumbles against his mouth, and Kent punches him lightly.

“Shut up,” he mutters, and Jack pulls him into a hug—and it’s not like they haven’t hugged before, but this is different because they’d also never been officially _dating_ before, just fooled around and (in Kent’s case) been so in love he’d been terrified of being turned down. “Hey, so… about Bitty,” he says as a thought occurs to him.

“Mhmm?” Jack says, and Kent can feel the rumbling of Jack’s voice against his chest.

“You can—obviously only if he wants to, but if you wanted to be with him first, uh, sexually, I guess… I’d understand,” Kent says quietly, sitting up.

Jack raises his eyebrows. “You mean you’re going to be upset if he picks me,” he asserts.

“What? No,” Kent looks away, “I won’t.” And okay, he’s lying, but he’s also the one who’s barging in here anyway and he still feels guilty about it.

“Right,” Jack says, but Kent kisses him and he shuts up. Then they’re kissing, losing themselves in each other, but they’re not eighteen and scared of the world anymore and this is much, much better.

xXx

Bitty’s taking longer in his room than he meant to but he’s so damn nervous. He’s not sure if Jack or Kent knows he’s never done this before, and he sort of doesn’t want them to find out because it’s not a big deal, geez. But he’s also not really sure how to go about getting ready, so he sneaks into the bathroom and tries to somewhat wash himself off because it’s not polite to be all gross and sweaty, right? Although he guesses he’s going to be sweaty by the end of this so maybe it doesn’t matter? Then he’s about to return to Jack’s room, but he realizes he’s forgotten the condoms and at the end of it all he ends up just having to sit on his bed and breathe for a minute.

Okay. He’s survived checking practice at four in the morning. He can survive having sex with two very attractive men that he’s in love with and also very much wants to have his hands all over.

Standing, he grabs lube from his nightstand drawer and then has to go on a hunt to search for the condoms, finally finding them shoved in the back of his closet—is it weird to bring the whole box? And it’s not open either, so maybe he should go ahead and open it so they won’t have to do it later?

He opens the condom box, and now it maybe looks like he’s used them before too (because he can just _imagine_ the chirping if they knew he hadn’t). Then he stands and walks back into Jack’s room before he can change his mind.

Jack and Parse— _Kent_ —are on the bed making out, and Bitty almost drops what he’s carrying because _Lord_ that’s sexy. “Y’all look ready,” he mumbles, and Kent breaks the kiss and laughs.

“Close the door, Bits,” Kent motions at it, and Bitty does.

Jack reaches an arm out toward him and Bitty walks over, setting the bottle of lube and the condoms on the nightstand. He lets Jack pull him into his lap, facing Kent, and then Jack lifts Bitty’s chin and kisses him.

“Mmm.”

Kent takes his hand and puts one of Bitty’s fingers into his mouth, which Bitty thinks is weird until Kent _sucks_ and a moan falls out from between Bitty’s lips. Then Kent pulls him forward and Bitty yelps because he feels like he’s going to fall. “Here,” Kent says, “Put your legs over mine,” and Bitty adjusts and then he’s being pulled into Kent’s lap instead.

He kisses Kent, and Jack’s hovering over his shoulder, sliding his hand down Bitty’s waist until his fingers are curling around the bottom of his t-shirt. “Can I take this off?” Jack mumbles, and Bitty nods rapidly.

Kent pulls back a little to give them space, and Bitty raises his arms and shivers because then Jack’s dragging his shirt up, running his fingertips up Bitty’s sides as he does. “Jack—tickles!” he squirms, and Jack chuckles behind him.

“Oh, sorry,” Jack says, but Bitty turns to look at him and he does _not_ look sorry.

“Jack Zimmermann—oof!” Bitty’s cut off as Jack pulls his shirt up and over his head.

And then he hears Kent sigh. “Oh, Bits,” he says, and he’s looking at Bitty like he’s the sun.

Kent leans forward and starts mouthing at Bitty’s collarbone then, sliding his hands up Bitty’s waist, and Bitty’s head lolls back because the warmth and the wetness of it all are doing funny things to his skin.

“Kent’s great with his mouth,” Jack whispers into his ear, and it’s kind of a compliment but also kind of a chirp so Kent stops kissing him and says “ _Hey_!”

“I mean—you are,” Bitty smirks at him, and Kent realizes what he’s about to say and rapidly shakes his head.

“No no no, Bits, we are _not_ talking about this—“

Bitty covers Kent’s mouth, laughing, and Jack gives them both an odd look. “What?” Jack asks.

“When we were—the Skype sex,” Bitty laughs, gasping for breath as Kent struggles to move his hand, “He would tell me sexy things about you and him and me,” he manages to blurt out before Kent starts tickling him and he squeals.

“Like what?” Jack asks, and when Bitty’s managed to fend off Kent’s hands he looks at Jack and Jack’s eyes are dark.

“I can’t—do it as well,” Bitty murmurs, flushing. “Kenny’s good at it.”

“Of course I am, but shush,” Kent kisses him quickly, then suddenly he lays back onto the bed and pulls Bitty with him. “Less talk, more sex.”

“Fine,” Bitty says, because having Kent talk him into this would have been easy but now the rest of their clothes are going to come off and he’s so nervous.

“Bitty. You all right?” Jack asks, winding his fingers into Bitty’s hand. Kent pulls at his leg, and Bitty shifts his weight and then slings his leg over. Now he’s straddling him, and Kent is hard between his legs, _God_.

“Y-yeah, just. This is really happening,” he breathes, and suddenly both Kent and Jack are smiling at him and it hits Bitty harder than a hip-check.

They both love him.

It’s filling him with so much affection that he almost wants to cry again.

Kent reaches up and ruffles his hair. “You okay, Itty Bitty?”

Bitty laughs and nods. “I’m happy,” he says, and then because he really wants to touch Kent, he slides his fingers under the hem of Kent’s shirt. “This can come off now, right?”

Kent raises his eyebrows at him and grins, curling a warm arm around Bitty as he sits up again and Bitty feels safe. “Zimms?” Kent says, and Jack leans over and presses his lips against Kent’s, harder this time, tugging at Kent’s shirt until it’s off. Both of them are so, so close, and Bitty reaches for Jack’s shirt too, pulls it off, and then there’s a press of naked torsos around him that’s so hot it burns.

Kent lies back down and Bitty’s skating his hands up and down both of their chests ( _Lord_ , those muscles) as Jack kisses him, Kent below him and Jack to his side. He can feel both of their pulses, pounding, Kent’s just the slightest bit faster than Jack’s (and his own the fastest of all, God, he hopes his heart doesn’t give out).

“Jack,” Bitty murmurs.

“Yeah?”

“Love you,” Bitty smiles.

“Love you too,” Jack breathes, and Bitty’s heart soars.

“What about me?” Kent grumbles, and Bitty pokes him in the side.

“I was _saying_ ,” Bitty says, feeling himself start to turn red. “Jack, I love you, but—I really, really want Kent to, um, finger me? Is that okay?” His voice gets all high at the end and he’s so embarrassed, but he’s hard, aching with it, and he can feel just how hard Kent is. There had been that one time over Skype, just before he’d started dating Jack, where Bitty had stripped down and fingered himself with Kent watching. The sounds Kent had made, _Lord_ , he’d have done anything to have Kent there with him, actually touching him, inside of him.

And now Kent’s here and Jack’s here and he doesn’t want to make either of them sad, so he’s asking just in case, even though he feels like he’ll probably die if someone doesn’t touch him soon.

“That’s fine,” Jack says, kissing him on the cheek, and Bitty lets out a sigh of relief. “If you want, you should let him fuck you, too,” he continues, a bit of mischief in his eyes.

Bitty wonders why until Kent makes an annoyed face. “ _Zimms_.”

“You want to,” Jack says. “So do it. I’ll watch.”

“Did I miss something here?” Bitty asks, and Kent covers his face.

Jack smirks. “He told me he’d be sad if you wanted me more than him.”

“I did not!” Kent pushes himself up onto one arm, glaring at Jack.

“Basically did,” Jack snorts, and Kent falls back on the bed, arms splayed out.

“Shit, I guess I have no choice. Ravish me, Bits,” he winks, and Bitty bursts into laughter.

“That’s terrible!” he protests, but then Kent thrusts his hips upwards, pressing against Bitty, and Bitty shudders out a moan. “Jack—it’s okay, right?” he asks again, just in case.

“Yeah,” Jack shrugs. “I wouldn’t say no to whatever you wanted, of course, but—I think Kenny would be upset if you changed your mind now,” he smirks.

“Maybe a little,” Kent grumbles. He keeps making little thrusts, rutting against Bitty through their clothing. It’s making it difficult to think.

“Kenny’s bribing me, look at this—oh!” Bitty says, but it turns into a gasp halfway through as Kent rolls his hips again.

“Am not,” Kent grins.

“Looks like bribery to me,” Jack counters.

“So what do I get for accepting the bribe? You gonna fuck me, then?” Bitty mutters, trying to make his voice all low like Kent does when he’s talking dirty. He thinks he sounds sort of silly but it must work because Kent shudders beneath him.

“Yeah—if you want. I’d like that.”

“Me too,” Bitty sighs a little at all the feelings whizzing around inside of him. He’s going to lose his virginity (well, his non hand-job virginity) tonight. To Kent Parson, of all people. He supposes he could technically say he lost it to Jack too, since Jack is here watching, and it makes him feel a tiny bit better, less like he’s being scandalous about it all. “Jack? What’re you gonna do?”

Jack’s eyes widen. “Uh—I wouldn’t mind seeing you two. Just, um, watching?”

Kent smirks. “Zimms likes watching,” he mutters, and Jack gives him a look.

“So?”

“So… we’ll have to make it good for him then, right Bits?” Kent puts his hands behind his head, grinning, and Bitty wants him so much.

“Yes,” he groans, and then Kent reaches up and dips his finger under the waist of Bitty’s shorts.

“Can’t believe you wore these,” Kent murmurs, and Bitty blinks at him.

“They’re my favorite, what do you mean— _oh_ ,” he remembers.

Kent’s mouth twitches as if he’s trying not to smile. “Yeah, _oh_.”

“Oh what?” Jack says, pulling himself so that he’s sitting at the foot of the bed, leaning against the wall.

“He wore these when he stripped,” Kent explains. “And then he took them off… which is exactly what should happen right about now.”

Wishing he could hide his face, Bitty sits up on his knees. “Here,” he says, and Kent’s hands are tugging at his shorts and he’s _not_ going to look. Jack’s eyes meet his instead, and Jack’s got a hand pressed to his cock through his jeans. “You should take those off too,” Bitty suggests.

“Okay,” Jack says, and then Bitty feels the fabric of his shorts sliding down his legs and now he has to look so he can take them off properly.

His shorts fall to the ground. Kent stares at him for a moment. “Fuck, Bits, look at you,” he mumbles, his voice husky, and then he wraps his hand around Bitty and Bitty can barely hold back from crying out.

“Kenny—I’m not gonna last long, please,” Bitty moans, and Kent stops.

“Sorry, Bits,” he murmurs.

“Nah, it’s good, just—I’m gonna get the lube,” Bitty says, because he’s too warm, too close already. He climbs off of Kent and scoots across the bed so he can get at the nightstand. Mentally, he starts recounting the steps needed to make the most complicated soufflé he knows—it helps after a moment, and he breathes easier.

“Want a hand?” he hears Kent say, except when Bitty looks over, Kent’s talking to Jack. Jack’s pants are off, and Bitty traces the line of his cock with his eyes, just as thick and gorgeous as when he’d seen it the other day.

Jack nods at Kent, and then Kent dips his head down and licks a line up Jack’s cock, then sucks him down and _holy shit watching them is going to kill Bitty_.

He feels like there’s fire running through his veins.

Jack looks up, jaw clenched, and sees Bitty watching them. “See—“ he tilts his head at Kent, “Good with his mouth, eh?”

Kent pinches Jack’s thigh, and Jack groans an ‘ow’. With a slick pop, Kent pulls off of Jack’s cock, shaking his head. “See if I blow you again,” he threatens, but both of them are smiling.

Then Kent shifts toward Bitty. “Here, Bits, lay back on the pillows. Actually—here, we’ll tilt you so Jack can see, yeah.”

Bitty crawls onto the bed with the lube bottle, letting Kent adjust him until he’s lying on his back, diagonally across the bed. If he turns his head, Jack’s right in his line of sight, and he gives him a little wave. “Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” Jack says back, voice husky. Jack’s hand is on his own cock, stroking slowly, and a shiver runs up Bitty’s spine.

“Bitty,” Kent gets his attention, and then Kent leans down and puts his mouth on Bitty’s cock and his world explodes, _oh God oh God_ _Kent_ —

Kent pulls away, and Bitty’s breathing hard, already shaky. “Kenny,” he whines, and then he squeezes his eyes shut and pulls his legs up. “Please.”

“Fuck yes,” Kent says, and Bitty hears the cap of the lube bottle popping open. “It’s a little cold, just warning you,” Kent says after a moment.

“Mhmm,” Bitty says, and then there’s a hand behind his balls, sliding lower, lower, and then there’s a finger circling his entrance and he gasps.

“Okay?” Kent prompts, and Bitty forces his eyes open so he can glare at him.

“Of course it’s okay, I’m not _fragile_ , you— _ahh_!” Bitty moans, because the tip of Kent’s finger is inside him, pushing deeper, pulling out, pushing in even more.

“Hate to break it to you, but you kinda are,” Kent chuckles, and Bitty can’t talk because Kent’s fucking him with his finger and it feels so good. “Sexy little thing, isn’t he?” Kent directs at Jack.

“Yes,” Jack says, making Bitty feel warm, and Bitty reaches his hand out. Jack scoots closer compliantly, letting Bitty link their fingers together and squeeze.

Jack and Kent start up a friendly banter, but Kent’s just added another finger and Bitty can barely focus with how much his heart is pounding. So he closes his eyes, lays back and just _feels_ , warm from lust and love and the feel of two, then three fingers inside of him.

When he opens his eyes, Jack is staring at him, his mouth shaped into an ‘o’, and Kent’s pushing farther than before.

Then Kent angles his fingers just right, and “ _Kenny Kenny Kenny_ ,” Bitty sobs because _fuck_ , his body is absolutely in flames. Kent angles away and then back _there_ again, and Bitty doesn’t know _how_ he hasn’t come yet because this feels so so good. “S-stop, want—want you, fuck me,” he gasps out. Shuddering, Kent pulls his fingers slowly away, eyes half-lidded with arousal. Bitty feels empty then, wants and wants and wants, and Jack is reaching over and stroking his hand along Bitty’s face.

“Beautiful,” Jack whispers, and Bitty loves him so much it hurts.

Kent looks at both of them then, pausing in the middle sliding out of bed, and there’s something strange in his eyes. “Kenny?” Bitty murmurs.

“It’s nothing,” Kent shrugs, tugging his jeans and boxers down and leaving them in the floor, climbing up between Bitty’s legs again. Bitty nudges Kent’s naked thigh with his foot, reveling in the smooth feel of his skin. Kent’s hard, leaking, and fuck, Bitty wants—he clenches involuntarily at the memory of Kent’s fingers.

“I love you, you know,” Bitty smiles, hips open, waiting.

“I know,” Kent rolls his eyes fondly. “Love you,” he whispers. Then he reaches over for a condom and tears the wrapper open, rolling it on. “Fuck, Bits, I want you.”

Bitty watches him spread lube on over the condom, watches him stroke his cock with a firm hand, and he can barely think because that’s going to be _inside_ him. He bites his lip, focusing on keeping his breathing steady.

“This is your first time, isn’t it?” Kent guesses.

Bitty flushes, because how did Kent know? “Maybe.”

“Really?” Jack says, and Bitty turns and hides his face in the pillows.

“Shush—just because y’all’ve done stuff before doesn’t mean I have, okay?”

“No one’s chirping you for it,” Kent says, and Bitty’s grateful enough to peek at him.

Kent’s looking at him, gaze soft and chest flushed, breathing fast.

“Go slow?” Bitty asks, because it _is_ his first time and he’s hella nervous.

“He will,” Jack says at the same time that Kent says, “Of course, Bits,” and Bitty laughs.

Bitty watches Kent line himself up, but he’s having trouble forcing himself to relax—his hands clench themselves into Jack’s comforter. “Umm, hang on,” he whispers, and Kent looks up, gaze alert.

“We can stop if you want, really. Or—if it’d be easier with Zimms, we can switch,” Kent averts his eyes, and Bitty can see that it really _would_ upset him in the way his shoulders slump.

“Kenny,” Bitty says, then sits up and kisses him. “Fuck me.”

Kent groans. “It’ll be easier if you’re on your knees, I think.”

“But I can’t kiss you then,” Bitty protests.

“Oh, Bits,” Kent murmurs, then kisses his neck, his chest, guiding him back down onto the bed and pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock. Bitty feels Kent’s hand drift down, feels fingers pressing inside of him again and moans. He knows that having Kent’s cock won’t be so different than this, just bigger, but he’s so damn nervous. “This help?” Kent asks.

“Yeah, thanks,” Bitty nods, taking a breath in and forcing himself to relax on the exhale.

“Here, Zimms, come kiss him,” Kent directs, and Jack crawls over until he’s lying next to Bitty, a smile filling his face. He kisses Bitty, gentle and stubbly and warm, and Bitty’s trembling from the fluttering in his heart, from the burning in his groin.

Kent leans over him, kisses his neck—now there are two pairs of lips on him and Bitty moans.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?” Kent kisses his chest, and Bitty nods, letting himself get lost in Kent’s hands, Jack’s mouth.

This time when Bitty spreads his legs, everything feels as slow as molasses, and Jack’s hand intertwines with his as Kent starts to push in. Bitty has to turn and look, whimpers because _fuck_ this is so intense, and it kind of hurts but it also feels good in a way that’s very different from being jerked off. Kent pushes farther, farther, making little thrusts until he’s as far in as he wants to be, and Bitty’s breathing fast and hard, oh God, Kent’s inside of him, oh God.

The little sob Kent makes as his hips press against the back of Bitty’s thighs makes all of this worth it.

“Okay, Bits?” Kent asks, catching his breath, and Bitty nods fast.

“Don’t touch me for now—might be close,” he admits, because the fire is building in his abdomen so much faster than he’d expected.

Kent grins. “I’ve got you, babe,” he says, and Bitty laughs at slight chirp in Kent’s eyes. “Look at Zimms,” Kent tilts his head. “He thinks we’re sexy.”

Bitty looks at Jack, and Kent’s right—Jack’s staring at where Kent has slowly started to thrust into him, and his eyes are wide and dark. “Do you think we’re sexy?” Bitty asks, squeezing his hand.

“Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Jack reaches down to pull at his own cock, and Bitty feels tingly all over.

“I bet he’d let you fuck him after this,” Kent says, slowly adjusting his body until he’s lying all the way on top of Bitty, voice straining from exertion. “I want you to feel how he feels—the pressure is so good, Bits, you’re so good.” Then he kisses Bitty and starts fucking into him for real, thrusts shuddery but rhythm quick and steady.

“Ahh—oh, _Kenny_ ,” Bitty whimpers, and Kent kisses his neck, goes to suckle on his collarbone.

“Imagine it, him below you—just like you’re below me, and he’s absolutely gagging for it. So you push in,” Kent whispers, and Bitty has to bite his knuckle to withhold a scream because Kent’s just reached between them and started stroking his cock. “And it feels like this, but more—like you’re going to explode.”

“Kenny.” This time it’s Jack who sighs the name, and Bitty looks at him and smiles, trembling from the effort of holding himself back.

“Kenny—he did this, over Skype, he would talk to me just like this and I think it’s one of the hottest things in the world,” Bitty rambles, and above him Kent makes a strangled moan.

“Here, Jack, touch him—“ Kent directs, and Jack’s hand replaces Kent’s on Bitty’s cock so that Kent can fuck him faster. “By the way, you give—nice compliments, Bits,” Kent says, his voice going ragged.

“I give nice other things too,” Bitty tries to wink at him, and next to him Jack laughs and then _twists_ his hand on Bitty’s cock just so. “Jack— _Jack,_ oh God, _Kenny_ , I’m—“ Suddenly it’s too too much and Bitty’s coming, coming, the world is pressing in and everything is burning and everything feels good—

He crests the wave, falls, and when it’s over he feels light-headed, trembling. Kent is pulling out of him, and Bitty furrows his brow.

“Did you—come?” he asks, and Kent nods.

“I don’t think anyone could have held back with you squeezing around me like that,” Kent’s voice is husky. He rolls the condom off, tossing it toward the trash can (and Bitty _hopes_ it goes in, goodness). “Zimms, do you want—I can blow you, or maybe Bits can blow you? Whatever you want,” he shrugs, flopping down at Bitty’s other side.

“Umm—anything?” Jack asks, and even though Bitty’s completely spent, he shivers at the suggestion in Jack’s words.

“Uh, Jack, I’m a little—I don’t think I can do anything for a right minute,” Bitty says, because his limbs feel like they’re filled with lead.

“That’s okay,” Jack smiles at him. “Then, Kent—“ At the sound of his name, Kent pushes himself up, and he seems a little wobbly but he makes his way over to Jack nonetheless.

“Probably should’ve asked this before, but have you been tested lately?” Kent sits between Jack’s legs, wrapping his hand around Jack, and Jack nods.

“Yeah, last semester. Bitty too, I’m assuming. Haven’t had sex with anyone since then, ‘cept that hand-job from Bits— _oh_ , that’s nice,” Jack breathes as Kent leans down and swallows his cock.

“Cool,” Kent pulls back off after a few moments. “Wanna come on me?”

Bitty makes a little noise of surprise, and both Kent and Jack look over at him, Jack looking mildly embarrassed. “It’s, um,” Jack says then stops, and Bitty thinks this is the first time he’s seen Jack so flushed off the ice.

“He likes some kinky stuff, Bits. You’re gonna have fun with it,” Kent smirks, and Jack flicks him in the head.

“I’m not _that_ kinky,” Jack protests, disgruntled, but he has a hard time keeping that expression on his face as Kent leans down and starts bobbing his mouth on Jack’s cock.

“What if I like kinky?” Bitty raises his eyebrows and rolls onto his side, head resting on his arm so he can watch them. He needs to clean up but he doesn’t have the energy to move just yet.

“Then, um. I guess it’s okay,” Jack says, leaning his head back against the wall. “Fuck, Kent. Kenny. It’s been a while,” he shudders.

“Where do you wanna come?” Kent asks, catching his breath before diving back in, and Jack shakes his head.

“I dunno, anywhere—you pick, I can’t,” Jack moans, and Bitty can see him beginning to lose control. He finds Jack’s hand again, briefly squeezing it as Kent pulls his mouth away from Jack’s spit-slick cock and wraps his hand around it instead.

“C’mere, over me,” Kent says, lying down on his back. Bitty lets go of Jack’s hand so Jack can position himself, and Bitty’s heart starts to speed up again at the sight of Jack hovering over Kent’s chest. Kent starts jerking Jack off, rougher than when he’d been touching Bitty, but Jack doesn’t seem to be bothered by it; his arms are straining as he holds himself up.

“What else do you like, Jack?” Bitty asks, his curiosity spilling over the edge of embarrassment the question makes him feel.

“I—um. Kenny can tell you, he’s better at this,” Jack’s eyes dart toward him and then away again.

“You sure, Zimms?” Kent asks, smiling lazily when Jack nods. “Well, he likes being tied up,” he starts, and Jack makes a surprised noise. “What? You wanted me to tell him, yeah?”

“Yeah—I did,” Jack shakes his head. “Sorry, it was just—sudden.”

“Can I keep going?” Kent slows his hand for a few moments, then speeds up again, and Jack closes his eyes and moans.

“Ahh, yeah—go on.”

“Where was I? Oh, he likes being tied up, and he likes blindfolds sometimes too. And—you may have gotten this, but he really likes watching. I fucked this girl once,” Kent says, and it makes this seem more real all of a sudden, because Bitty remembers Kent saying that he was bi but he’d never talked about it beyond that. “Pretty cute, brought her back to our hotel room when I thought Zimms was asleep. That was back before we were—well, fucking, because that’s what we mainly did. Anyway I don’t think she noticed, but I’d been sleeping next to him on and off for a while now and I knew he was awake because his breathing sped up.”

“You never told me you knew I was awake,” Jack mumbles, and Bitty gets the distinct impression he’s watching something so intimate it’s almost scorching. Jack and Kent’s eyes are locked on each other, intense, and Bitty’s swept up in it even though he’s sitting a foot away.

“Shit, didn’t I? I dunno, I masturbated to that for a really long time afterwards, so I guess I just figured I’d told you,” Kent shrugs. “I liked it. Were you touching yourself when I was fucking her?”

Jack groans and nods, breath coming heavy, his hips fucking faster into the closed circle of Kent’s hand. “I could hear you talking to her, _ah_ , Kenny—you were being quiet but I could hear it when you were getting close, and I couldn’t help it, sorry—“

“Don’t apologize,” Kent interjects. “I don’t regret any of it. You were so hot, Zimms—“

“ _Kenny_ ,” Jack chokes out, muscles going taut. Kent speeds his hand on Jack’s cock as his orgasm hits, as Jack trembles and shoots out over Kent’s hand, his chest.

Kent slows his movements, stops, and pulls away, catching Bitty’s eye and licking a long, slow line up the messy side of his hand. Bitty moans; Jack hears it as he’s collapsing between them and smiles.

“Thanks, Kenny,” Jack says, and Kent ruffles his hair with his clean hand.

“Gonna go clean up. Bits?” Kent motions his head toward the bathroom, and Bitty remembers he’s still a right mess.

“Coming,” he says, and Kent snorts. “Oh, shut _up_ ,” Bitty rolls his eyes fondly, leaning down to kiss Jack, who’s chuckling too.

“You can use the shower. Don’t forget to make sure the door to Shitty’s room is locked,” Jack curls onto his side, eyeing them both fondly.

“Will do!” Bitty slides out of bed, feeling a little wobbly, and Kent gets up and holds his hand out. Bitty takes it. “How are you feeling?” Kent asks, and Bitty has to think about it for a second.

“I’m all right. Um, a little sore, but not too bad. You started really gentle,” he murmurs, and Kent shoots him a smile as they walk into the bathroom, closing Jack’s door and locking Shitty’s.

“Of course, Bits. I’m not an idiot.”

“Well…” Bitty trails off suggestively, and Kent raises his eyebrows.

“And if I am an idiot, it’s your fault. You made me lo—“ he cuts off, swallowing and looking away.

Bitty feels warm. “Say it?”

“I love you.” Kent flushes.

“Love you,” Bitty echoes, feeling light with happiness. “I would hug you but we’re both all sticky,” he wrinkles his nose.

“Sure,” Kent leans over, kisses his nose until Bitty stops wrinkling it and laughs.

They shower. Kent insists on washing Bitty, and Bitty stops protesting when Kent’s hands are all over him, warm and soapy and firm. He’s turned on all over again, but when Kent flicks his eyes toward his erection, Bitty shakes his head; he wants to wait for Jack.

By the time they’re done showering, Bitty’s sleepy and clean and mostly not horny anymore. His hair smells like Jack’s shampoo. (He’d gotten excited about that and Kent had chirped him for two whole minutes while Bitty’d washed his hair.)

Jack’s already lying in bed, fast asleep against the wall, so Bitty and Kent crawl in next to him. Bitty feels warm as the sun.

xXx

Jack wakes first, to the sight of Bitty and Kent curled up at his side, Kent spooning Bitty and Bitty’s face pressed into Jack’s own shoulder. The memories of last night hit him next, memories of being happy and then jealous and then very very worried about Kent and Bitty both, of standing up and wanting nothing more than to hug them and make the sadness go away.

And it had.

He wishes he could lie there with them, but he always gets antsy when he’s awake in bed with nothing to do, so he tries his best not to disturb them as he gets out of bed. Maybe he’ll take pictures sometime, but he’s not sure how Kent feels about that.

Instead he showers quickly, wondering briefly if Kent and Bitty had sex again without him and then dismissing the thought. Even if they had, he doesn’t feel the urge to get jealous anymore. They’re both his now.

He feels a smile growing on his face as he dries off, wrapping the towel around his waist when he’s done. But then there’s a knock from Shitty’s side of the bathroom. Jack reaches over to unlock it—he supposes Kent and Bitty must have forgotten to after their shower last night, since he doesn’t usually see a reason to keep it locked.

“Hey, brah. I’ve got a massive hangover and I need to piss, but after that can I talk to you?” Shitty walks in and pushes past him, pulling down the boxers that he’s wearing for once and opening the toilet lid.

“Uh, sure,” Jack says. “Can I get dressed first?”

Shitty shrugs. “Whatever floats your boat, man. I’m gonna head down to the kitchen and see if Bitty’s started breakfast yet.”

Jack knows for a fact that Bitty has not yet cooked anything, but he nods anyway, wondering about what Shitty could possibly want to talk about this early in the morning. He dresses quickly, avoiding the solo cups strewn around the stairway as he makes his way down to the kitchen. It’s a wreck, just as usual after a Kegster, and Jack doesn’t envy whoever’s in here when Bitty sees the mess.

He gets himself a glass of water, eyeing Shitty when he comes in and leans against the counter. “So,” Shitty says, and Jack eyes him uncertainly. “I don’t mean to be all up in your business, brah. But hypothetically, if someone in this household were to be secretly dating someone else in this household, and yet another person in this household—yeah, fuck it, I’m just gonna use names, my head hurts too much for this,” he throws his hands up in the air.

Jack’s hands have gone cold. Shitty knows about him and Bitty. They were going to tell everyone anyway, of course, but it’s just so _soon_. He forces himself to relax. This isn’t that bad.

“So—just to get this straight, I’m under the impression that you’re dating Bitty, yeah?” Shitty lowers his voice, and Jack nods, nervousness thrumming in his stomach.

“Yeah—we are. But don’t tell anyone yet, please?”

“Of course not. Anyway, that’s not really what I’m getting at,” Shitty crosses his arms, looking fidgety. “I wasn’t trying to listen in, I swear. But I—I just don’t want Bitty to get hurt, all right? And I’m pretty sure I heard Parse’s voice from your room last night. In a, um, sexual manner.”

Jack’s eyes widen. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. No one’s even supposed to know about he and _Bitty_ yet, let alone _Kent_ , and they haven’t even talked about whether or not they’re going to tell anyone yet at all, but Shitty thinks Jack is cheating on Bitty, oh God. “We’re—I’m not—“ he tries to say desperately, but he’s not sure what to do.

“I swear, it just gets worse and worse in here every time,” someone says from the doorway. Jack whirls around, and Bitty’s there, wrinkling his nose at the state of the kitchen. His expression changes when he sees Jack’s face. “Honey, are you okay?”

“Shitty heard Kent last night,” Jack blurts out.

Shitty raises his eyebrows, looking back and forth between both of them. Bitty’s face goes white.

“Um,” Bitty says, then flushes violently.

Then there’s the sound of someone else coming down the stairs. “Bits, have you seen my phone?” Kent asks from the hallway.

Except Bitty’s still standing in the doorway, so when Kent wraps his arms around Bitty from behind and presses a kiss to his cheek, Shitty isn’t in his line of view until it’s too late.

“Oh, fuck,” Kent says.

“Ohhh, I see,” Shitty says.

“Huh?” Bitty and Jack ask Shitty, more or less at the same time.

“Don’t mind me,” Shitty waves a hand in the air. “It’s not what I was thinking. You guys do you,” he walks out of the kitchen, punching Jack in the arm as he passes.

Jack stares at Bitty and Kent, then suddenly the wave of relief comes, almost crushing him. He can’t help but chuckle, because—well, Shitty won’t tell anyone. They’re safe, and he really just wants to hug both of them, so he does (after checking to make sure no one’s in the hallway, of course).

“I’m so happy,” Bitty mumbles, pressed between Jack and Kent.

Kent sighs, and Jack raises his head to look at him. “That wasn’t a happy sigh,” he says, because he knows Kent probably better than he knows himself at this point.

“Nah, it’s just—I’ve gotta leave tonight,” his mouth twists, and Jack can tell without looking that Bitty is probably frowning.

Jack doesn’t look. Instead he pulls away, walking over to grab his glass of water. He can feel the sudden stir of agitation under his skin, because he’s not sure if it’ll be the same if Kent leaves—he doesn’t _want_ Kent to leave.

“Hey, it’ll be all right, y’all,” Bitty says softly, and Jack whirls around to look at him. He’s standing next to Kent in the doorway, hand on his hip, eyeing both of them. “There’s still Skype, and we can just do it more often now. ‘Sides, it’s not like Jack wasn’t gonna graduate soon anyway, so—“ his voice cracks, and it’s more obvious now that he’s just trying to hold himself together.

Jack moves to go comfort him, but Kent gets there first, putting his hand on Bitty’s shoulder and looking him in the eye.

“Bits. Just because we won’t be here doesn’t mean we’re gonna stop—you know. Loving you,” he shrugs. “Right, Zimms?”

“Of course not,” Jack shakes his head. “That’s silly.”

“I’m happy. I’m really really happy,” Bitty smiles at Kent, then at Jack. “Sorry—I know it’s gonna be hard, but—it’s dumb to worry now, I guess, because—I’d do anything to be with you guys,” he blushes lightly.

Kent’s hand slides down Bitty’s shoulder as he reaches to link their fingers together. “It’s gonna suck, probably. But—yeah, it’s worth it.” And he doesn’t say the words, but the ‘ _I’m happy too’_ lingers in the curve of his lips and the lightness of his shoulders.

Bitty holds his other hand out for Jack, inviting him in. Jack steps forward and takes it, accepts all Bitty’s offering, and then Kent’s fingers find his on his other side, larger than Bitty’s but just as warm. It’s like their own safe little huddle, private in the sunlight of the messy kitchen doorway, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, and please [come scream about pb&j and parse with me!!](http://omgpbandj.tumblr.com/)


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